


Oh. Hello.

by Overgrown_Druid



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Antarctic Empire, Based of songs by the Oh Hellos, Found Family, Gen, Phil Has nightmares, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Tommy Is a Gremlin, wilbur is a dirty crime boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overgrown_Druid/pseuds/Overgrown_Druid
Summary: The Angel of Death takes in a piglin hybrid, a thief, and a gremilin.Phil raises a warrior, a revolutionary, and a brash boy with a kind heart.*****A series of five Sleepy Bois Inc. one shots based on five songs in the Oh Hello's album Dear Wormwood.1. There Beneath2. Where is Your Rider3. Pale White Horse4. Danse Macabre5. Soldier, Poet, King
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 56
Kudos: 251





	1. There Beneath

**Author's Note:**

> CW: no graphic violence but there is blood, and war, and trauma. I like making characters suffer.

Phil was eighteen when war struck his country. Phil was eighteen when he enlisted in the army, determined to help in any way he could. Phil was eighteen and naive.

*****

Phil was twenty when his commanding officers started to really take note of him, noticing how he fought. Phil was twenty when he started to get placed on the front lines. Phil was twenty when he earned the name Angel of Death. 

*****

Phil was twenty-one when the war reached its climax. Phil was twenty-one when he came back to camp covered in scrapes and bruises and blood that wasn’t his, people parting for him when he walked. Phil was twenty-one and tired of war.

*****

Phil was almost twenty-two when the war ended. Phil was almost twenty-two when he was sent home with a clap on the back and a ‘Good job, well done!’. Phil was almost twenty-two when he found a clearing in the forest near a village and he decided that that would be his home.

*****

The village was a nice place, and it was a good area for him to rest in when he wasn’t working on building his house ( It was going to be in a nice clearing in the forest that lay about two hundred fifty blocks to the right of the village. As nice as the village was, he didn’t want to live in it).

It was moderately sized, with large black walls surrounding the perimeter of the central area. Outside the walls were farms, small family homes, and fields upon fields of crops. Inside, the village was bustling with trade and culture. Shops and inns lined the criss-crossing streets, musicians and dancers performed in the plazas, government buildings stood tall and proud, and homes for larger, wealthier families stood along the edges of the government district, their green grass lawns laid out for all passersby to see.

There was one hole in the wall, at the front of the village. It had a large gate with a door (controlled by the local guard) that stayed open all throughout the day, and closed at night, just when the mobs started spawning. A road running through it connected to the main road in the city. 

Everyone in the village was friendly, and he had already made a few friends. Sam owned the hardware and mechanics store two streets down from Phil’s inn. He was a nice man that always seemed to be working on some sort of redstone project. He sold nails to Phil for half the price when he heard how Phil was building a house, despite Phil’s insistence that he didn’t have to do that. A nice family owned the bakery a few blocks away and he found himself going there sometimes just to strike up a conversation with one of the adults, although sometimes he got swept up into an animated conversation about ladybugs or cookies with the couple’s three year old daughter. He’s also pretty sure that eating as many of their cookies as he did wasn’t healthy, but he wasn’t to blame. The Nihachus had a gift for baking.

The only people he didn’t seem to get along with were the guard. Within two days of renting a room in the inn, he’d gotten a letter from the head of the guard inviting him to take a spot as an officer. He’d thrown it away almost immediately after writing a curt but kind letter refusing the position. His war glory days were behind him, and he planned on keeping it that way. They didn’t let up though. Anytime he passed them in the street, they’d recognize him instantly and try to start a conversation with him about the guard, or the harvest that month, or the war. He never pushed them away, but he never let the exchanges last very long. 

After three months of stilted conversations, he took to wearing a green and white bucket hat and green cloak that hid his wings, his most notable feature. It also covered his hair and his normal attire, and the conversations that seemed to happen upwards of five times a week were whittled down to once or twice a month. He could deal with that.

*****

A year and a half of living in the village and his house was complete.

It was pushed into the back right corner of the clearing, and Phil was proud of it. The downstairs had his room, a bathroom, and one large room that he had split into thirds to serve as a connected living, dining room, and kitchen. The upstairs had two storage rooms, a bathroom, and a guest bedroom.

Connected to the left wall of the outside of the house was a small stable that was just big enough to comfortably house Phil’s two horses. Beside that was a pen with a few cows in it. Taking up the rest of the back of the clearing was a neatly organized and fenced off farm and garden, with potatoes, carrots, and wheat. Phil had tried to get some chickens into a pen near the cows, but had failed terribly. The result was clearly shown in the occasional chicken wandering in the thick woods surrounding the clearing and the back of the cabin-farm combo, or the flock that would sometimes enter his front yard in the morning. On those days, he would stand on his front porch, cup of coffee in his hand, and glare at them until they left.

He didn’t need chickens anyway.

The border of the woods pushed up against his back porch and was slightly thinner than the woods surrounding the path that lead from his house to the open plains bordering the right of the walls of the village. He had briefly explored it when he was building and found a small pond with a few willow trees on its banks. He made a small path to it, in case he needed to use it for something. He also placed a nether portal back there, just so it’d be out of the way in case anything came out of it.

When he had finished furnishing the house and had cleaned everything up, he invited his friends over for dinner. The four of them had a grand time.

*****

The nightmares started two nights later.

By that point, he had finished every kind of prep, clean up, or start up for his house. He started to take things easier. And then he had a nightmare.

It was less of a nightmare and more of him reliving one of his worst moments from the war. But it scared him. He stood in the kitchen with a cup of tea in his hands and reminded himself to breathe. It’s been almost two years since the war ended. He was fine.

(He ignored the way he twitched at the smallest sound and tucked his wings in like he did during many battles so they’d become smaller targets.)

*****

The nightmares didn’t stop.

*****

One night he didn’t go to bed. He stayed up until sunrise farming, convincing himself that it was the prime time to harvest the crops.

He collapsed onto his bed two hours after the sun had risen, and his exhaustion carried him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*****

He tried to find ways to help himself get back to sleep after a nightmare. Nothing worked.

One night, he made himself a basic training dummy and set it up in the yard. It lasted barely half an hour of Phil hitting it with his sword. 

He made another one. It lasted twenty minutes.

Phil looked at the remains of the two dummies, iron sword in his hand, breathing in a routine manner than was as natural as, well, breathing. He dropped his sword and sunk to the ground, curling himself into a ball and wrapping his large black wings around himself, like some sort of blanket. 

The night was quiet, aside from the occasional hoot of an owl and the shaky sobs that came from the center of a clearing.

*****

He went to the village to go pick up some supplies, wearing his hat and his cloak.

Sam noticed his condition. “Dude. You look like you haven’t slept in ages.”

Phil laughed it off. “After so long of living here, I don’t think I’m used to how much sound the woods make.” He waved his hand around for emphasis. Sam laughed.

On his way to the bakery, a guard on patrol noticed him. 

“Phil! Where’ve ya been?” He said, walking up to him.

Phil gave him a slightly strained smile. “Hey!” He had no clue who this guy was. “Yeah, I’ve moved a bit aways. I just came back to see some friends.”

The guard nodded. “It’s a shame you didn’t stay. We really could have used you here. Imagine!” He spread his hands out some. “The famous Angel of Death! Working for the guard! The way you used to cut down men like they were nothing! Crime rates would drop significantly!” The guard was barely looking at him now, too caught up in his war hero fantasy.

Phil’s smile grew tighter. “Y-yeah.” He nervously laughed. “That would have been something. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Told a friend I’d meet them.”

The guard snapped out of whatever stupor he had gotten into and nodded, saying bye to Phil as he turned and left to continue his patrol. Phil breathed out a sign and kept walking to the bakery, pointedly ignoring all the memories fighting their way to the surface of his mind.

The bell attached to the door of the shop jingled when he opened it. “Just a minute!” A familiar voice called out from the back room. No one was at the counter. He took the time to look at the newest baked goods in the glass case by the counter.

A second later, Karina came out of the back room, a purple apron tied around her waist and her long brown hair tied up in a messy bun. Her flour smudged face lit up when she saw who was in her shop. “Phil!”

He stood up from looking at a particularly good tray of sugar cookies. “Hello, Kari.”

She wiped her hands off on her apron as she approached the counter. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Just thought I’d pop in while I was in town. How’s the rest of ‘em?”

She propped her elbows up on the counter and leaned forward, shaking her head, although she was smiling. “Issac’s in the back, teaching Niki how to frost a cake.”

“Teaching them young? If you needed help around the shop, I'm sure anyone would be more than happy to work for you.” He said, tone light and joking.

She laughed. “Oh I’m sure. No, Niki wanted to learn. She’s going to be such a big help when she gets older. But how have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Still adjusting to the house but it's all going smoothly.”

“Really?” She furrowed her brow a bit. “You look tired. And not your normal ‘I’ve been building a house from scratch with no help and need a nap’ tired. What’s wrong?”

“Oh it’s nothing. Just getting used to the new environment.” He knew that she knew it was a lie, but was praying she wouldn’t push it. 

She opened her mouth to respond when the flimsy door to the back kitchen was thrown open, and little Niki came running up to Kari. “Mama! Dad keeps trying to-” Niki cut herself off when she saw who was standing on the other side of the counter. “Mr. Phil!” She ducked under the flip up part of the counter and tackled Phil’s legs in a tight hug, causing him to stumble back a bit. 

Kari shot him a look that said that they’d be talking later. 

Niki let go of his legs and looked up at him. “You missed it! I made a batch of bread all by myself! All Mama and Dad had to do was the oven part but I did all the measuring and mixing without their help!”

“Wow! Really?”

The door opened again and a man with swept over blonde hair stepped through. “She sure did.” 

Phil looked up from Niki. “Hey Issac.”

“Hello. How’s the new house?”

Kari stood up. “Why don’t we all sit down and talk. It wouldn’t be good for a customer to come in with us all just standing here.”

Issac nodded. “I’ll go put on a pot of tea.”

*****

All in all, it was a good visit. As soon as Niki had been out of earshot, Kari had grilled him on his health and why he wasn’t getting enough sleep. He had tried to wave it off but even Issac had gotten on his case and he told them he was having nightmares.

He didn’t specify any further and they didn’t press him for information.

Issac made him promise to try to take care of himself and Kari sent him off with a bag of the sugar cookies he’d been eyeing.

Niki gave him a flower that he wore tucked behind his ear as he rode his horse out of the village.

*****

He sat at the window of his room, watching as the sun sank beneath the tree line.

He was tired.

He was scared to sleep.

He fell asleep two hours later, still at his window.

*****

_A yell, “Forward!”_

__

_There was no response other than the in sync movement of the battalion along the training ground. ___

__

__

__

_Another yell, “Attack!” ___

____

__

____

_Phil pushed the sword in his hand forward, as well as everyone around him. It entered the center of the training dummy in front of him. It started bleeding. ___

_____ _

__

_____ _

_He pulled back, shocked. He looked to the side to see if anyone else noticed. The man beside him lay on the floor, dead. He had an arrow through his heart. ___

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

_He looked back to his bleeding target. A man stood there, hands stained with his own blood as he touched the wound where Phil’s sword had gone through his stomach. ___

_______ _ _ _

__

_______ _ _ _

_He didn’t remember leaving his sword in the dummy. He looked down to his hands. They were covered in dark red blood. He started hyperventilating and only the sound of the man in front of him collapsing to the ground made him look up. ___

________ _ _ _ _

__

________ _ _ _ _

_He was on a battlefield. Men ran right and left, ignoring Phil as he stumbled back, trying to find a way out. He heard a crunch and looked down. His foot was on top of a man’s hand. It was broken. He looked to the man’s face, an apology ready on his lips. He was dead. ___

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__

_________ _ _ _ _ _

_He gasped and reeled back from the dead man. He flicked both his wings out to the side, planning to fly out. He felt a sharp pain on the back of his wing as an arrow hit it. He turned around. ___

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He was in a tent. A table sat in the center, a map laid out across it. Three generals sat around the table. He turned around, back to the battle. ___

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_It wasn’t there. ___

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He turned back to the generals. There was a space at the table in front of him. He careened forward, placing a hand on the table to try to regain some of his balance. ___

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_The general sitting across from him was moving his mouth. Phil couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears. He looked down at the map, symbols covering it. A dot labeled a town with a familiar name. He reached out shakily and tapped it, dragging his finger down. A smudged trail of blood followed his finger. ___

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He looked up to the general and was met with an open meadow and the burned remains of a village. He turned his head right and left but instead of looking for the tent, he was looking for a specific building. ___

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

_______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Everything was quiet. ___

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He ran through the village, following familiar paths. ___

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__

_________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He neared a garden. The flowers were trampled. He kept running. ___

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__

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_The charred remains of a house sat just off the path. He froze when he saw it. ___

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__

___________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_He ran in frantically, going through all the rooms, looking. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he ran into the back garden. Someone lay still there. He walked over to her, feeling like he was moving through water. ___

____________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__

____________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Phil fell to his knees and turned the body to face him. Glassy eyes stared at him and he choked out a sob that he couldn’t hear. He pulled the girl’s head to his chest and buried his head into her hair, crying. ___

He woke up with a jolt, sitting straight up in his chair.

It took him a minute to register where he was. He slouched back into his seat, rubbing his hands over his face and breathing deeply. His neck hurt with a sharp pain and he rubbed the back of it, hoping to relieve some of the pain.

After a sufficient amount of self pity, he got up and moved to the kitchen, where he had set out a kettle of water earlier. All he had to do was turn on the burner and wait.

He stretched as he waited for the water to boil, all twenty-one feet of his wingspan stretching out to the sides. He spared a look at his feathers. He might need to preen them soon. He sighed at the thought. He always had trouble reaching his scapulars.

The tea kettle boiled a minute later. He grabbed a mug and a bag of tea, pouring the water and putting the bag in. He went around the kitchen, grabbing milk and honey while it steeped.

He brought the mug over to the dining room table and sat down, propping himself up on his elbows as he held the tea. He took a deep breath in, smelling the lavender. An image from his dream came back to him and he breathed out, trying to expel the image of blood smeared maps from his mind. He took a sip of the too hot tea. The burning feeling on his tongue grounded him.

He took another deep breath and prepared himself for another three hours of this routine.

*****

The next day he grabbed his fishing rod and made his way to the pond he had found earlier. He had gotten barely any sleep last night and he needed something to do that was pretty low energy.

He reached the pond and sat under the willow tree. He liked the way the branches dipped into the water and reflected back to the tree.

He reeled his fishing rod in so the hook was at the top, and with a flick of his wrist, cast it out into the pond.

And he sat there.

Nothing happened.

He crossed his legs and propped his elbow up on his knee, pushing his face into his hand. He signed.

His mind wandered back to his nightmare from the night before. He tried to focus on his breathing, ignoring the way his hands started to feel a little wet. He reasoned it was the water from the pond, and not the blood he imagined.

He thought about the girl from the dream. 

He didn’t like thinking about her much.

Just when he thought he’d get sucked into old memories faded with time and tainted with sorrow, he felt a tug on his rod. He looked out to the bobber. It was pulled under the water. He gently reeled it in until he felt a stronger tug and then he reeled it in faster. The water rippled around the string as he pulled a small fish out of the water.

He pulled it off the hook when he realized that he hadn’t brought a bucket with him to hold the fish. He sighed and looked down at the wriggling fish in his hands. He bent down and lowered his hands into the water. The fish swam away.

He sat back up and cast his rod out again.

His mind wandered back to some of his old memories.

He was on the verge of getting lost in them when his rod tugged. He reeled the fish in, unhooked it, and let it go.

And the process repeated.

He breathed deep. The trees swayed and the willow tree’s branches moved, sending small ripples across the pond. A bird sang in the distance. It was peaceful.

*****

The nightmares never really left. They became less and less frequent and he was eventually able to sleep in peace with only minimal disturbance from his subconscious.

Whenever he had a really bad nightmare, or even when he couldn’t sleep for fear of a bad one, he’d go out to the pnd and fish. He never brought a bucket and he never kept any of the fish he caught.

And there beneath a willow tree, Phil learned something had forgotten during the war.

He sat there and listened to the animals moving through the forest, listening to the wind in the leaves, and catching and releasing fish. And he learned that everything had breath and was alive. He relearned how to appreciate life.

He watched the nature around him and learned to appreciate the beauty of it all.


	2. Where is Your Rider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil finds a kid in a tricky situation and says "Yeah you're my son now"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically how these chapter will go. Phil will find the kid and then adopt them. The chapter will be told mostly from the POV of the kids but sometimes from Phil's. There will be mentions of the siblings but they won't be the focus of the chapter

Phil was exploring the nether. 

He’d been to it before (he’d been living in his house in the forest for two years now, how could he not go to the nether to try to find anything cool) but he’d never really explored it. One his previous excursions, he’d stick pretty close to his portal, only venturing far enough to grab some glowstone, quartz, or whatever else he could find that was relatively close.

But now he had a goal. He needed to find a nether fortress and gather some blaze rods for some potions he wanted to make. He could always go into the village and buy the ingredients from the town alchemist. They were cheaper than buying the already made potions that were also sold there, but even still they were a bit pricey.

So Phil said ‘screw that’ and now he’s here.

He stepped out of his portal, letting the last dregs of nausea roll off with the purple mist. Portal magic was never really fun.

He sighed and checked the leather satchel at his side to make sure he had everything he needed (after all the time he spent running around his house gathering items and sharpening his diamond sword he was still nervous and thought he had forgotten something). He did have everything, of course. Without allowing himself to hesitate further, he rolled his shoulders, and in a second, his wings were rising behind him. He ran forward and took off into the sky, if you could even call it that.

He was grateful he had wings. He had often heard of how hard it was to navigate the nether’s rough terrain, and having wings just made everything easier. Instead of having to deal with hot netherrack, sinking soul sand, and lava and magma, all he had to avoid was hitting the nether roof. And ghasts. He hated ghasts.

It didn’t take him long to spot the red bricks of the fortress. He pushed himself a bit and swooped down onto the bridge, landing with grace. He started looking around, and not seeing a blaze spawner, picked a random direction and stuck to it. He could feel how hot the bricks were through his boots. 

*****

He had just killed another blaze and was picking up the rod it dropped when he heard it.

*****

He held up his stone sword and the wither skeleton came running for him, swiping at him with its own stone sword. He dodged and grunted as a few stands of pink hair fell into his eyes, partially blocking his view. He tossed his head back, and his hair moved out of his eyes. He ran towards the skeleton before it had time to turn around and hit it in the spine. It careened forward and he kicked it off the bridge and into the lava.

He only had a second to catch a breath before he heard more skeletons running his way. He turned around, holding up his sword as four wither skeletons came running toward him. He made a mental note to knock only three off the bridge, and kill the fourth on it so he could steal its sword. His was getting chipped.

(He thought about the swords the piglins had. They’d last him much longer than these ones he kept taking from wither skeletons. But they would never accept him. He had tried sticking with a pack of them once, but it was obvious he didn’t fit in. He didn't fit in anywhere. Not with his long pink hair, red eyes, and sharp caines that didn’t belong to any mob he’d ever seen.)

He took a deep breath and widened his stance.

There was a whoosh of air, and the skeletons were blocked from his vision by two large black wings. He took a step back. There was the sound of a sword being drawn and rattling bones. A second later, the wings folded back, and he saw that they belonged to a man with blond hair, who was fighting the skeletons with a sword Techno had never seen before.

The man finished off the mobs with ease and turned to face Techno. He wore a loose white shirt and brown riding pants with matching leather boots. He readied the sword in his hands, preparing to fight his way out of whatever situation this was.

And to his surprise, the man sheathed his sword. He opened his mouth and said _something ___but Techno had no clue what it was.

He glared at the man, and they stood there, looking at each other for a few moments. When it became apparent that the man wasn’t there to attack him, he lowered his sword slightly and hesitantly walked past him, towards the skeleton remains. The man moved to the side of the bridge as he walked.

He looked at the swords the skeletons had dropped and picked up the best looking one. He tossed the sword he had been using over the bridge, where it would fall into lava. He used his new one to pick up the wither skeleton skulls and toss them over the bridge. They contained the most wither magic and it was good to get rid of them before they could cause any harm.

He turned back to the man, who had been staring at him oddly. The man moved his mouth again but Techno didn’t understand the noises that came out of it. The man stopped making the noises. Techno raised an eyebrow and the man’s shoulders dropped as he sighed.

The man straightened back up and pointed at himself. “Phil.”

Techno nodded and turned to leave. To his slight annoyance, the man (Phil) followed him as he walked across the nether fortress bridge, towards an area covered over the top with netherrack and where the bridge met land. Phil came up beside him and walked to match his speed. Techno looked up at him. The man smiled down at him, but didn’t stop walking next to him.

They kept walking but when they reached one of the blaze spawners, Phil stopped. Techno kept walking for a second before turning around to look at him. The man gestured to the spawner. Techno stared at him. The man gestured again and walked _into the spawn room ___.

Techno ran back to him. He was brave but he wasn’t brave enough to stand up to a bunch of blazes. He came to the fortress frequently to raid the chests and get new swords from the wither skeletons. But he never walked into a spawn room.

He stopped at the entrance to the room and slowly peaked his head in. Phil was standing by a wall, his odd colored sword in his hand. He waved when he saw Techno hesitantly standing at the door. Techno lifted his own hand up and copied the motion, which made Phil smile. 

A blaze appeared next to the spawner and before Techno could duck back into the safety of the hallway, Phil had killed the monster. The monster disintegrated into a pile of ash and Phil reached down and stuck his hand into it, pulling out a shiny, golden rod. 

This happened a few more times and by the time Phil had killed six blazes, Techno had stopped peeking into the room and was now standing in the middle of the doorway. Phil started walking out, a small bundle of the rods in his hand. He took notice of how Techno was staring at them and handed him one.

“Blaze rod.” He said.

Techno tried copying him. “‘Laze rod.” Phil smiled and nodded. Techno held the rod tight in his hand that wasn’t holding his sword and nodded back, happy that he made this odd man happy. He pointed at himself, remembering what Phil had done earlier. “Techno.”

“Techno?” The man asked.

He nodded. The man smiled again and reached a hand out. Techno didn’t know what to expect and he wasn’t ready for when Phil put his hand on top of his head and ruffled his hair. He stood there, dumbfounded, as Phil walked away.

He turned around and ran to catch up with the man waiting for him a few feet away.

*****

He held the blaze rod in his free hand as they walked side by side through the fortress. Every now and then, he’d point at something. Phil would say something and Techno would try to copy it, which always earned him a smile.

At one point, they ran into another wither skeleton, and before Techno could get his sword ready, Phil had already pulled his own sword out and leaped forward, slicing the head off the skeleton’s shoulders. The body collapsed into a pile of black bones and Phil sheathed his sword. Techno ran forward and looked at the skeleton remains. It usually took him three to four hits to kill one and Phil had done it in one. He took his sword and used it to poke the head of the skeleton over towards the wall of the tunnel, where it’d be out of the way.

He turned back to Phil and noticed that the man was looking at him funny. He pointed to the skeleton’s head and shook his head. Phil tilted his head to the side and his expression grew more puzzled. Techno pointed at the skull and reached out, pretending like he was about to touch it. When his finger was a small gap away from the skull, he looked at Phil and shook his head.

Phil came over to him and Techno straightened up. He reached into the bag at his side and pulled out a small brown mushroom. He squatted down and pushed it up against the skull. It immediately started to shrivel up and turn black. Phil dropped the mushroom and stood up.

“No touching. Got it.”

Techno looked at him and shook his head. “‘O touchin’. Got it.”

Phil laughed and ruffled Techno’s hair again. Techno decided that he liked it when he did that. Phil made a motion with his hand in the direction they were going and started walking. Techno caught up and placed himself at the man’s side.

After a little while of walking in silence, he pointed to the sword at the man’s side. 

“Sword.”

“Sword.” Techno repeated.

Phil smiled and nodded. “Good.”

Techno held up his sword. “Sword.”

“Yep. Stone sword.”

Techno furrowed his brow and looked up at him. “Stone?”

Phil nodded and drew his sword out of its sheath just enough to see the blade. “Diamond sword.”

Techno was happy to finally put a name to the strange weapon. “‘Iamon’.”

Phil nodded and slid his sword back into his sheath. Techno pointed at Phil’s wings.

“Wings.”

Techno repeated it. “Wings.”

Phil smiled and nodded and their little game started again.

*****

They came up to a small room with a chest. Phil didn’t notice it but Techno tugged on the man’s sleeve and Phil looked down at him. He pointed to the chest and handed Phil his blaze rod back. Phil smiled and took the rod, turning in the direction of the chest. Techno ran over to it.

He flung it open and dug around until he found something he could use. He pulled out a piece of bread and left the rest in the chest. Phil came up behind him and peered inside.

“Woah.” He reached into the chest and pulled out some black rocks. Techno ate the bread and watched as Phil dug through the rest of the chest. When Phil was done he put the things he had grabbed into his bag and turned back to Techno, who was halfway through eating his loaf. Techno broke some off and tried handing it to Phil. Finding food in the nether could be hard and he had the feeling that Phil hadn’t learned that yet.

Phil shook his head and pushed the food back to Techno. He drew his hand in and looked at Phil quizzically. Phil shook his head again and reached back into his bag. He pulled out something brown and round. Techno looked at it funny and Phil gave it to him. He put his sword down and took the thing.

“Potato.”

“‘Otato.” Techno tried.

Phil nodded. “Eat.”

“Eat.” Techno repeated. Phil nodded but made an eating gesture with his hand. Techno looked down at the thing. He hesitantly held it up to his mouth and took a small bite. It was amazing.

He ate it quickly and looked back up to Phil. “‘Otato!”

Phil laughed. “Yes. Potatoes are very good.”

He reached back into his bag and pulled out another one. He handed it to Techno and ruffled his hair when Techno took it, bread forgotten. Techno ate this one slower and Phil made a gesture with his hand in the direction the hallway was leading. Techno nodded and dropped his bread back into the chest, picking his sword back up. Phil waited for Techno to come back to his side before they started walking again. 

Techno ate his potato as they walked. Phil seemed to enjoy something about them walking along but Techno couldn’t figure out what it was.

*****

They continued like that for a long while. Phil killed some more blazes and wither skeletons. Techno always stood back and watched, happy that his new friend was enjoying himself.

Phil taught him many things while they walked, and Techno repeated back all the words Phil said.

Eventually, they reached another section of the fortress bridge that didn’t have the netherrack roof and stood above lava. Phil walked up to the edge of the bridge, instead of forward and Techno stopped to look at him.

Phil pointed at himself and then outwards into the nether. “Go.”

Techno ran up to him and pulled on his sleeve, shaking his head. He had learned ‘go’ not too long ago, and although it had been a bit hard for him to grasp at first, he eventually got the concept. He didn’t want Phil to go.

Phil smiled and crouched down so they were eye level. He pointed at himself and the nether again. “Go.” Techno shook his head harder. Phil pointed at himself, Techno, and then the nether. “Go?” It took him repeating the motion two more times but Techno got the idea. Phil was asking if he wanted to go with him.

He nodded and pointed at Phil, himself, and the nether. “Phil. Techno. Go.”

Phil smiled and took Techno’s sword out of his hand, putting it on the ground beside them, and stood up. He held both his arms out and picked Techno up by the waist. Techno squirmed a little bit but eventually settled down, his legs wrapped around Phil’s waist, his arms around his neck, and his head buried into his chest. Phil stroked his hair and he pushed his head further into his chest.

Phil climbed up onto the edge of the bridge, wrapped his arms tight around Techno, and _jumped off ___. Techno whipped his head up and was about to scream when Phil’s wings spread out and caught air. And then they were flying. Techno looked around in amazement as the red and browns of the nether blurred past them.

Phil was never there among the fire and the embers to bedevil and beguile. Techno thought that such a kind man shouldn’t belong to this world.

*****

Phil landed in a section of the nether far away from the fortress. He gently let Techno down, and he immediately started looking around. In front of them, there was an upright ring made out of the black rocks Phil had pulled out of the chest. In the space between the stones, a purple mist swirled around.

He pointed at it. Phil came up beside him and rested a light hand on his shoulder. “Portal.”

Techno nodded. “Portal.”

Phil pointed at the two of them and the portal. “Portal. Go.”

Techno shook his head and leaned into Phil’s side, burying his face into the cloth of Phil’s shirt. Phil ran his hand through his hair. Techno thought the portal looked cool but he didn’t want to go in it. “No.”

Phil took a small step away from him and Techno let go of his shirt’s hem. He opened his arms and Techno walked into him. Phil wrapped his arms around him and picked him up. “Yes. Portal. Go.” He walked toward the portal and Techno buried his head into the crook of his neck.

They went through.

*****

Phil stepped out of the portal and Techno immediately clung to him more than he was already. 

It was night. His maybe two hour trip for potion supplies had turned into a full day. And he brought a child back with him.

He honestly didn’t know what he was thinking. He saw the kid (he couldn't be more than seven) fight off a wither skeleton. And then four more had run at him and he didn’t think and instead just _flew ___.

So now he had Techno. The kid was small and had long pink hair that was tangled and matted at the bottom. His eyes were red and his caines were sharp. He was different. He knew what it was like to be different.

He eventually got Techno to let go of him. As soon as Techno’s feet hit the grass, he was looking around everywhere, trying to take everything in.

They didn’t leave the clearing until the sun rose, and even then, Phil had to carry a sleeping Techno into the house.

*****

Techno woke up in an unfamiliar place. He sat up and everything came flooding back to him. That didn’t explain where he was though. He threw off the piece of fabric covering him and got off the big fluffy thing he was sitting on. He stood there for a second before running for the door. He didn’t have a plan.

He ran outside and was immediately hit in the eyes with a bright light. He covered his eyes and stumbled back. His back hit something soft and he whipped around.

He took his hands off his eyes and was met with the sight of a worried Phil. He ran into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pushing his head into his stomach. Phil wrapped his arms around him, as well as his wings. Most of the light was blocked out and Techno looked up. Phil smiled softly at him.

“Hey. It’s ok. It’s ok.”

The rest of the day was spent getting Techno slowly adjusted to the over world.

*****

Three weeks. Phil spent three weeks with Techno at the house. And he learned.

Techno hated water but wouldn’t get out once he was in it.

He loved the stars and quickly became a night owl. Phil often had to wrangle the kid to get him to go to sleep.

He was a fast learner and was rapidly picking up on how to speak English, just from hearing Phil speak. Phil was able to teach him some basics of reading and writing from some books laying around his house.

He liked fighting, and would drag Phil out to a training dummy set up in the yard if it meant Phil taught him new stances and fighting methods.

He liked it when Phil braided, ran a hand through, or ruffled his hair.

But even though he was ineffably happy spending time at home with his kid, he was worried that his friends were getting worried about him. He had to go to the village at some point.

He wrote Sam and the Nihahchus a letter apologizing for his absence and asking them to meet him at the Nihachchu’s house in two days.

*****

The day came when they had to go into the village and he explained to Techno what they were going to be doing. Techno had looked hesitant, but he nodded.

When it came time for them to go, he put on his cloak and his hat. He handed Techno a cloak he had altered to fit him and Techno took it.

They took a horse to the village and the ride was pretty uneventful.

They entered the village and Phil followed a worn down dirt road to his friend’s house. He got there and saw Sam sitting on the porch. He waved and Sam stood up and walked over to come greet him. Phil got off the horse and helped Techno get down. As soon as he was on the ground, he was holding onto Phil’s cape, almost hiding behind him.

Sam came up to them and took the horse’s reins from Phil’s hands. “Hey Phil!” He looked down at Techno. “Ah, um, who’s this?”

“Well that’s what this is all about. I’ll introduce everyone later. Can you please tie up my horse for me?”

Sam looked a bit skeptical but nodded and took the horse over to a small, fenced area by the house. Phil walked up to the house and Techno followed closely. He opened the door and saw Issac and Kari standing in the hall. Techno hid behind him as Kari came up to give him a quick hug.

Issac smiled. “Hey Phil! Where've you been?”

Phil laughed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, I’ll get there.” He turned his head to look at Techno. “You don’t have to hide, bud.” Techno nervously stepped to the side so that the other two adults could see him. Kari and Issac stared at him with wide eyes. “This is Techno.” He gently reached down to pull Techno’s hood down so they could see his full face.

Techno lifted up a hand and made a small waving gesture. “Hullo.”

Phil looked back to the stunned adults. “Do you think him and Niki could play while we talk?”

Kari nodded. “Um, yeah.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Niki! Come here!”

“Coming!” Niki came out of the kitchen and when she saw him, ran straight to Phil. She stopped when she saw Techno. The two kids stared at each other for a minute before Niki smiled and said, “Hi! I’m Niki!”

Techno waved hesitantly. “Hi.”

Phil smiled. “Niki, this is Techno. Do you think you two could play while me and your parents talked?”

Niki looked back at him. “Yes sir!” She grabbed Techno’s hand and started pulling him behind Phil, towards the door. Techno looked back at Phil with wide eyes. Phil nodded reassuringly and Techno went with Niki. The door opened and Niki and Techno ran out. Sam stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

All three adults looked at him questioningly. 

“I can explain.”

Kari sighed and started walking into the kitchen. “Come on.”

*****

Techno was a bit wary of Niki. Phil didn’t seem too alarmed so he was trying not to freak out but Niki had just dragged him into the garden beside the house. If he looked into the window above one of the flower boxes, he could see Phil and three other people all sitting at a table.

“You have really pretty hair.” He turned back to look at Niki. She had long hair too, but hers was a black brown with two streaks of blond in the front. “Can I braid it?” Phil had taught him what braiding was and Techno liked it when Phil braided his hair. He hesitantly nodded and Niki sat down in the grass, motioning for him to sit in front of her. He complied. “Take your cape off, please.” Techno undid the clasp holding his cape on his shoulders and let it drop behind him.

Niki chatted while braiding his hair and she seemed happy to get nods or one word responses from Techno. He heard laughing coming from inside the house and looked to the window. Phil’s head was in his hands and the three people around him were laughing, though it didn’t seem mean spirited.

Niki finished with his hair and asked if he could braid hers. He shook his head. “Don’t know how.”

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “This isn’t good. I’ll have to teach you.” She turned her back to him. “First, separate my hair into three even strands.” He did as he was told and she carefully led him through the process.

*****

Phil rubbed a hand down his face and groaned. “Guys. Please. It’s not that funny.”

Sam kept laughing. “No, screw you. This is hilarious.”

“I really don’t see the comedy in this.”

Issac pointed at him. “It’s just so, _Phil ___.”

He threw his hands out to the side in an over the top manner. “I don’t even know what that means!”

Kari laughed. “You see this lonely kid fighting a bunch of mobs by himself and immediately adopt him. Phil, I don’t see how that doesn’t have you written all over it.”

He signed and looked out the window. Techno had his hands in Niki’s hair and it looked like he was trying to braid. It was a bit messy but he seemed to be doing good. He looked back at his friends.

“So,” Sam began, “you’re planning on raising him.” It wasn’t a question. Phil nodded.

“I have no clue what I’m doing.”

Issac smiled. “It’s ok. We’ll be here to help you. Just do us a favor and warn us next time you’re planning on picking up some random orphan off the streets.”

“I’m not planning on adopting any more kids!” Phil said, shaking his hands in front of him as his friends laughed.

*****

He did adopt another kid. His name was Wilbur and he liked the color yellow and playing the guitar.

Kari, Issac, and Sam were disappointed that he didn’t warn them. He told them that was it, no more.

*****

That wasn’t it. His name was Tommy and Phil took him home and gave him a family.

*****

Techno was eight when he told Phil about the voices.

Techno was nine when he found a love for farming.

Techno was ten and all the village librarians knew him by name.

Techno was eleven when he farmed more potatoes then some random kid in the village named Squid.

Techno was twelve when he went back to the nether with Phil and killed a hoglin. He kept the too large skull, saying it looked cool.

Techno was thirteen when he started dueling people.

Techno was fourteen when he started winning.

Techno was fifteen when the guard offered him a part time job. He refused.

Techno was sixteen when he met Dream and his friends.

Techno was seventeen when he beat Dream in a series of duels.

Techno was eighteen when the war hit. Techno was eighteen when he enlisted. Techno was eighteen and Phil told him about his time in the army. Techno was eighteen when he made his last name Blade so that no one would know of his connection to Phil.

*****

Techno was nineteen when he earned the name Blood God. 

He was nineteen and the best warrior the nation had seen since the days of the Angel of Death.

*****

Phil would get letters for weeks on end from generals (They were always written to a Mr. Blade and not Mr. Watson. Phil always laughed a bit thinking about how different the letters would read if they knew who he was) detailing how Techno had taken down an entire cavalry or how he had risen up the ranks faster than anyone, or how he was like the next Angel of Death.

He read the letters and knew that Techno wouldn’t be like Phil. He wouldn’t come home and settle down. He knew that Techno wouldn’t stop fighting.

And it took some time, but he became fine with that. Techno wouldn’t be like Phil.

He would be what Phil wasn’t and he’d be the best at it.

*****

Techno came home for good when he was twenty. He had hugged his family tight and then slept for a full day.

He came to Phil two weeks later, on the verge of tears, babbling about memories, nightmares, and screaming voices that no one else could hear. Phil hugged him and told him that he understood. He took him fishing the next day and he saw that it calmed Techno down just as much as it calmed Phil down.

*****

Phil looked at Techno. He didn’t see the man that came down upon armies wearing a skull mask and a flowing cape. He didn't see the man whose mind was filled with battle tactics and full of voices that screamed for blood. He didn’t see the intellectual, who would pour over books for days on end. 

He looked at Techno and he didn’t see the man generals praised and honored.

He looked at Techno and he saw the kid facing four wither skeletons, with the intent of taking them all down. He saw the kid that came to him twelve years ago, crying, because his head was too loud. He saw the kid, his kid, hoisting his younger brother on his shoulders as they screamed “We don’t know nobody!” while Wilbur rolled with laughter nearby.

He looked at Techno and he saw his son.


	3. Pale White Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, this is very long. Longer than I intended. Have fun, I guess

He watched them fall, helpless.

He watched as pillagers rampaged and he could do nothing but run into the mountains.

He sat on top of a hill and watched his village burn, tears falling from his eyes, freezing before they touched the snow by his feet.

*****

He found another village two weeks later. 

No one would help the seven year old as he huddled in an alley, a ratty blanket covering his shaking shoulders.

*****

He learned how to ~~steal ~~~~~~survive quickly.

He was eight and people would give him money if he begged and put on a good enough act. But sometimes that wasn’t enough to buy what he needed.

He learned how to ~~pickpocket ~~~~~~bump into people on the streets.

He made his living that way. Steal when you need money, stowaway on a merchant's carriage when you’ve been in one place for too long.

He thought he had a pretty good life. After all, he could barely remember his life before it.

*****

He woke up to the sound of voices and it took him a few moments to remember where he was. He sat up slightly behind the crates he was hidden behind and looked around the back of the covered wagon, only getting slightly jostled by the cart’s movement along the road.

If the talks he’d heard the last few nights from the travelers meant anything, they’d be in Middlesbrough, a town to the south of Woodhurst, the town they had just left. He mentally mapped out where he was, adding onto the map of the country he already had in his head.

He peeked out the back of the wagon, taking notice of the town. No walls, lots of shops, stone paths, a noticeable lack of large farms. That would explain the stockpiles of wheat, apples, and seeds the wagon train carried.

The wagon came to a stop and he ducked back beneath the crates. He’d learned how to do this through practice. Hide in the back, eat at night, leave with the first load of goods.

There was a lot of noise and movement and the back flap of the wagon opened. Three men reached in, grabbed three crates, and left, leaving the flap open behind them. 

Wilbur stood up and stretched. He started quietly walking out of the wagon, grabbing a small sack of apples on his way out. Just before he reached the flap, he hesitated, looking back.

Leaning against the side wall, out of the way and ignored, was a small guitar. It was light brown, and sun bleached in patches. The neck was so worn that the black color had lightened some and the strings were obviously well used. He had been glancing at it since he had first noticed it, and his curiosity and longing peaked when never heard anyone claim it. It must have been one of those odd items that just shows up and that gets pawned off to someone willing to take it for a quarter of the price.

He hadn’t held a guitar in years.

He signed and ran his free hand through his fluffy hair. He walked back and took it by the neck, sliding the frayed strap over his shoulder so it hung across his back.

He slipped out of the wagon and into the town silently, ‘bumping into’ a few people in the crowd on his way to find a semi suitable alley to sleep in for a month or two.

The people he pickpocketed barely glanced at the nine year old with a guitar and they wouldn’t notice their missing coins until later.

*****

He spent a month and a half in that town before the next caravan came. He studied it as it pulled into the town. Three wagons. Two people per wagon. Importing more food if the size and build of the crates was anything to go off of. 

He watched as they finished loading more goods and walked up to the wagons when no one was looking, slipping into the rear wagon.

He settled himself into the back and closed his eyes, preparing for a long ride.

*****

When it was finally night, he grabbed a loaf of bread, a waterskin he had grabbed from the seat when the man who’d put it down wasn’t looking, and his guitar.

He quietly creeped out of the wagon. The travelers had formed a semicircle out of the wagons, facing the open plains and backed up to the woods. The six of them slept in bedrolls positioned around a small fire that had been put out. Wilbur went around the outside of the wagons and into the woods.

He went far enough into the forest until he found a spot by a stream where he could watch the merchants, but if they woke up, they couldn’t see him.

He ate his bread, drank some water, and sat leaning against an oak tree (facing the camp, of course), guitar positioned in his lap.

He positioned his fingers on the frets in a note position.

With a deep breath, he gently strummed the strings. A soft, low sound played out through the forest.

He had it tuned perfectly from his nights in the alley, when all he had to do was play and remember the chords he had been taught.

He repositioned his fingers and strummed again. Another sound played out low and beautiful. He played a few more chords, making sure to keep each one quiet as not to wake the travelers.

When a considerable amount of time had passed, he stood up and walked out the forest, creeping around the camp and back into the wagon, where he fell asleep hours later against crates.

*****

He slept all day and when night came, he grabbed more bread and went out into the forest. He couldn’t find a stream so he drank lukewarm water left in the skin from the night before.

He sat down and strummed a few chords again. 

He heard shifting from the camp.

He whipped his head up and stared at the camp. Someone was moving in their bedroll, but wasn’t getting up. A second passed.

“Did ya guys hear that?” A female voice asked. Wilbur held his breath. Someone mumbled and it was quiet for a few minutes.

After what had to be twenty minutes of staring at the circle of people, Wilbur mustered up the courage to strum a few more chords.

More shifting from the clearing and he froze. Someone sat up. “Ok, you had to have heard that.”

“Go back to sleep, Rose.” Another female voice said.

“No,” Someone else sat up. “She’s right, Diana. I heard it too. I also heard it last night but I thought I was imagining it.”

“Not you too, Daniel.” Soon enough, four people were sitting up in their bed rolls. The other two in the group were still fast asleep.

“Thank you, Daniel.”

“No problem. I will always defend your honor.”

The unknown person sighed dramatically. “Stop flirting.” He said, dragging out the g.

A few quiet chuckles came from the circle and Wilbur would have found their conversation funny if he wasn’t paralyzed with the fear of being discovered.

“Daniel, I think Lucas is jealous of us.” Rose said.

“You’re not even dating.” Lucas said in response. “Besides, I have a girlfriend in Hallowdale.”

“Oh yes,” Diana chuckled. “The ever elusive girlfriend.” Everyone-bar Lucas-laughed and one of the sleeping people looked up and mumbled something. They quieted down. “What did you hear, Rose?”

“It sounded like a guitar.”

“I heard it last night but I ignored it.” Daniel added. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“There’s no one else out here except us.” Diana said.

“What if it’s a ghost?” Lucas asked.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” Diana answered. Wilbur smiled and let some of the tension leak from his shoulders. They seemed like nice people.

“Well, what if these woods are haunted?” Daniel asked.

“Here, we’ll settle this now.” Rose said and stretched herself up, cupping her hands up to her mouth. “Ghost!” She yelled, causing everyone (including Wilbur) to jump. “Tell us if you’re there!” By some miracle, the sleepers didn’t wake up.

There was silence. Wilbur was smiling. He had an idea.

“See. Ghosts aren-” Diana started.

She was cut off by the sound of a gentle guitar. Wilbur strummed two more chords after the first and stopped, letting the silence ring.

“Ok. Ok. Ok ok ok o-” Rose started rambling. “I was not expecting that.”

“Um, ghost?” Daniel hestitanly asked. Wilbur strummed another chord. “Ok, this is creepy.” 

“Rude.” Wilbur whispered jokingly to himself. He strummed a few light chords to the start of a song he had picked up from someone in town. It was a soft tune, and something that he had enjoyed since he first heard a drunk humming it as he bumbled down the street.

There was silence from the group as he played, and a look at their faces showed their abject horror at the ‘ghost’.

A few more bewildered comments passed between the travelers as he played. They all eventually fell asleep, lulled by the gentle sounds of an old lullaby. He quietly crept back into the covered wagon.

*****

He woke up the next night and waited for the ragtag group of vagabonds to fall asleep so he could leave the wagon. From the sounds coming from outside the wagon, they were just setting up camp. He started zoning out but zoned back into their conversation when he heard mentions of himself.

“I’m telling you. We woke up and there was a ghost playing a guitar in the woods.” it sounded like Rose.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” He hadn’t heard that voice before so he guessed that it was one of the people who had been sleeping.

“Ask Diana!”

“I hate to admit that she’s right. We woke up and someone was playing a guitar.”

“Diana, please. You’re supposed to be the reasonable one.”

“I am the reasonable one. And I’m being reasonable when I say that that was creepy.”

He smiled and listened to them argue some more. He learned that the other two people in the group were named Ezra and Joshua and that they didn’t believe their friends. Eventually the whole group came to the conclusion that the woods they had been staying next to were haunted.

They all fell asleep sooner or later and Wilbur waited about an hour before sneaking out. The forest they were next to this time was a birch forest, and he was able to find a stream. He ate and drank before finding a nice tree to sit under.

He started with a few warm up scales and then he started playing the lullaby from the night before. It didn’t take long for the four travelers from the night before to wake up and soon enough, everyone was awake and sitting up.

“Guys. The ghost is back.” Rose said. 

“Guys, it’s not a ghost. Ghosts aren’t real.” Ezra said. Wilbur strummed the guitar rapidly, making an ugly noise that didn’t fit with the song he had been playing. He stopped and let the silence sit for a moment, before he resumed the lullaby where he had left off, like nothing had happened.

“Now you’ve gone and angered the ghost!” Daniel said.

The group was silent as Wilbur finished the song. He looked through the trees to the group and they all looked around them. Lucas straightened up. “Um, ghost?” Wilbur waited a second to play a light chord, hoping that would suffice for a response. It did. “Do you-do you know any other songs?”

He strummed rapidly a few times, keeping the pitch light. He rearranged his fingers on the fret and set his fingers in position to play B minor. He strummed lightly twice before switching to a G chord, and then an A. He mouthed the words of the song to himself as he played.

“Oh.” Someone said. He looked up.

Rose turned to Joshua. “What?”

“I know this song.”

“What’s it about?” Ezra asked.

“It’s about someone who runs into a horse that’s supposed to signify death. It-it’s a sad song.” Wilbur strummed the next chord slightly louder, then quieted down again. “A perfect song for a ghost.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.” Daniel said.

There wasn’t a response. Wilbur kept playing until they all fell asleep.

*****

This kept up for a few nights until they pulled into the next town.

Over the course of four nights, he had somehow managed to convince six people that they were haunted by a ghost with a guitar.

He smiled to himself as he ducked and weaved his way through the village crowd, sticking his hands into a few pockets and grabbing a few coins as he went.

*****

Apparently his little joke had more ramifications than he had originally anticipated.

This was made evident to him when he started hearing stories of a ghost who follows travelers, playing a guitar in any woods they camp near.

Of course, he just happened to hear this story at night. In the back of a wagon. While waiting for the travelers he was stowing away with to fall asleep.

By a forest.

He wanted to laugh and scream simultaneously. 

So of course, he did what he had to do.

~~Lay low ~~~~~~Sneak out at the first chance he got and become the cryptid they didn’t know he was.

It would be an understatement to say that the three men in the group screamed when they woke up to an eerie guitar playing in the thick forest.

*****

Soon, The Wandering Musician became a common ghost story among merchants, travellers, and vagabonds.

The legend goes that there was once a musician who liked to travel the common trading routes between most of the villages in the country. One day, robbers attacked him where he slept under a tree, hoping to steal any valuables he may have had. The only thing they left him was his guitar, which he still carries. He haunts the roads and will sometimes hitch a ride with small caravans of wagons, but he’ll only play for them at night, and if they camp near a forest. You can’t go looking for him, because he’ll disappear and won’t play for you for the rest of your journey. Leave him alone and he’ll bring you good luck in the form of finding an item you thought you lost on your trip, or a better trade route marked out on any left-out maps.

But unlike other ghost stories, this one had some truth to it.

At least, that’s what ten year old Wilbur thought to himself as he used a red sketching pencil to redirect a route drawn on a map, highlighting a better one that didn’t have as many bandit encounters or potholes as the one that was planned. He was careful not to wake up his sleeping audience.

*****

One night, he was playing in the forest, waiting for the five people by the forest to wake up. He was eleven and had really started to enjoy his little game. He had improved greatly, playing the guitar so often, and he was happy to get so much positive feedback from so many different people.

But he was especially excited about tonight. He had been awake for half the ride that day, listening to the man who sat on the bench of his wagon play his guitar. He was ecstatic to finally get someone else who played to hear his music.

It only took another few minutes before someone was awake. They woke everyone else up and Wilbur finished the song he was playing. He didn’t start a new one, instead waiting to hear anything from the group of three.

“Hello? Musician?” A man’s voice called out. He strummed his guitar lightly, his signature ‘yes’ when asked anything. “Do you mind if we light a fire? We’re not trying to see you or anything, I promise! I um, I play guitar too and it’d be easier for me to play with some light.” Wilbur waited a few seconds before hesitantly playing a ‘yes’. He waited a minute before a dim light shone from the camp. He was able to see them better but he could tell that the trees and bushes blocked him from their sight. A man and a woman sat at the fire and another man with short brown hair and stubble was reaching into the back of one of the two wagons.

He watched with fascination as the man pulled out a guitar and sat back down in front of the fire, facing the woods.

“I’m Logan and my friends are Emily and Matt.” The two other people at the fire each gave a quiet hello. Emily had pale skin and long brown hair that reached down her back and Matt had black hair that was tied back into a bun at the base of his neck. “Could I play with you?” Wilbur didn’t hesitate for a second, quickly playing a yes. He saw Logan’s face light up. “Do you know By and By?” Wilbur furrowed his brow and strummed his guitar rapidly in short succession. “Ok then. Well, I’ll lead you through it.”

For the next hour and a half, Logan would strum a chord and call it out, and Wilbur would repeat it. The whole song was composed of just five chords and Wilbur picked it up easily, able to play in sync with the man by the end, while Emily sang along softly. When they had both finished playing, Emily and Matt clapped quietly.

“You did good!” Logan called out. “Well, we’re going back to sleep. Will you play for us tomorrow?” Wilbur strummed his guitar rapidly, although it was a shrill and excited yes instead of a low pitched no. He saw Logan beam. “Well, we’ll see you. Goodnight!”

By and By playing softly in the background as they went to sleep.

*****

He played the next night slightly earlier than he usually would and Logan and his friends woke up accordingly. After a quick confirmation with the ‘ghost’, they made another small fire.

Wilbur followed Logan closely in By and By and Logan asked if he knew the song Wasteland Baby. Wilbur strummed no and Logan got maybe five seconds into the song before Wilbur realized that yes, he did know this song. It was a bit more of a complicated song and was a few minutes long. It had been difficult to learn but Wilbur loved how soft it was.

He interrupted Logan playing by strumming a no. “No?” Logan echoed. “You don’t want this song?” Wilbur strummed the beginning of the song and paused, waiting for a reaction. “You know this song?” He strummed a yes. “Oh thank Aether. I’m pretty bad at it.”

Wilbur chuckled to himself, covering his mouth with his hand. He repositioned his hands on the guitar and strummed the first chord. There was a moment of silence but Logan copied him. He smiled and strummed the next one. Logan copied that one as well.

“You’re getting taught by a ghost, dude.” Matt said.

“Shut up. It’s a good ghost.” Logan responded, sounding a little miffed.

“Still a ghost.” Emily yawned. 

“Ghost!” Logan said loudly, “What do you think?” Wilbur strummed a loud no, causing the small group to chuckle.

*****

They continued like that for another day before they ran into a slight bit of trouble.

“Ok Ghost.” Logan said one night before they had played a song, “We have an issue. We’ll be going through a savanna tomorrow, and we’ll be there for about three days. As you can imagine, there’s no forests there. Will you be at the next forest we reach?” Wilbur paused. Three days without playing the guitar? He’d done it before but that’d been when someone had tried looking for him, so it was out of spite. But he liked these people. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. He took a deep breath and strummed a yes. “Ok, that’s good.”

Wilbur plucked a chord and he and Logan started into a song.

*****

Sure enough, they passed into a savanna the next day. Wilbur had never been this far east before, and it was slightly exhilarating.

Of course, he didn’t leave the wagon, even when night came. He ate in the wagon and didn’t leave to go find a stream, instead drinking water from his waterskin. 

He leaned against the side of the wagon and listened to the soft sounds of a familiar guitar. When those faded, he listened to the sounds of the savanna until morning came.

*****

He couldn’t stand it the next night. He snuck out far past the time that he usually would. 

The savanna was beautiful. The grass was diluted and the bark on the few, scattered trees was gray. The moon shone bright and full, and stars dotted the sky like pinpricks of light under a blanket. The grass was tall and brushed against his knees as he walked up a hill close to the camp. He sat at the top and took in the beautiful scenery.

After a considerable amount of taking everything in, he put his guitar in his lap and strummed a few chords, getting warmed up.

He looked out over the horizon, the line between sky and land blurred with grass, a tree or two scattered around. He took a deep breath and started playing a familiar tune.

*****

He woke up, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He sat up in his sleeping bag and looked at his two companions, each a few feet away from him. Logan shook his head and laid back down, already trying to go back to sleep.

But as he laid there, the silence of the plains was obstructed by a soft but persistent sound.

He signed and stood up, stretching as he walked away from his friends. He stood on the outside of their wagons and strained his ears to try and hear the sound. It was coming from a nearby hill. He looked at the small hill but he couldn’t make out anything that could be making noise. He started silently climbing up the small incline to the top.

He stopped when he could hear it clearly. It was a guitar.

He went up the hill, wide awake, and froze in his tracks when he reached the top.

There was a kid sitting by the edge, holding a guitar. He wore a large sweatshirt and a ratty red beanie but what surprised Logan most was that the kid was _singing ___. He was quiet, but he was good. Logan stood frozen, listening to him.

“Oh please, never fall in love again. Oh please, never fall in love again.” He adjusted his hand on the fret and changed the way he was strumming. “And if some other guy, catches your eye,” He messed up and stopped strumming. “Oh, that’s not the right chord.” He whispered quietly and took a deep breath, starting back over where he messed up.

Logan took a step forward and stepped on a twig. It snapped and the kid stopped what he was doing and quickly turned his head around, a thin layer of fear in his eyes. Logan, the excellent oratory that he was, said, “You’re out of tune.”

The fear in the kid’s eyes was replaced with confusion and he quickly looked down to his guitar, strumming it and adjusting the tuning keys. “‘S not.” He said quietly. 

Logan came up to the kid and stood a few feet to his side. “Yeah. It is.” The kid looked back up at him and narrowed his eyes. “Uh, wh-who are you?” The kid shrugged stiffly and went back to his guitar, adjusting his hands and strumming a chord. It rang out and he twisted another of the tuning keys at the top. “I’m-I’m Logan.”

The kid mumbled something but he only caught the end of it. “-bur.”

“Well, um, nice to meet you.” Bur nodded. “Where’s your parents?” He looked over the hill but didn’t see any villages or stand alone huts.

“Don’t have any.”

Logan looked back at Bur, who was now looking straight up at him. “Oh, um, crap, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and strummed the guitar rapidly. “Don’t be.”

“What were you playing?” He hesitantly sat down where he stood, keeping some distance between himself and the kid. He had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get any important information from him without the kid telling him out right.

Bur shrugged and repositioned the guitar. “Nothing much.”

“Well, do you know any good songs?”

Bur paused and nodded slowly. He moved his hand along the neck of the guitar and started strumming a low, even tune. Logan watched Bur as he played. He was clearly someone who loved playing, and did it often.

Then he started singing. “The cute bomber jacket you’ve had since sixth form, adorned with patches of places you’ve been, is nothing on my khaki coat I got, from a roadside when I was sixteen. My boots are from airports, my backpack’s from friends…” He was a great singer. He kept his voice low but strong, and it suited the song well.

He finished after only around two minutes. “I’ll be gone then, for when you must be alone.” He stopped playing and started findling with the strings, keeping his head down and not looking at Logan.

“You’re really good, kid.” Bur nodded slowly but kept his head down. “How’d you get all the way out here?”

He shrugged. “Like to travel.” He mumbled. 

Logan gave the kid a small smile. “How about this? I’m traveling with two friends to the next town. Why don’t you come with us so we can drop you off there?”

The kid plucked at a chord on the old guitar that sounded slightly familiar. He nodded.

*****

He took Bur down to the camp, where Emily and Matt had already woken up and were starting to freak out over his absence. 

They were shocked to meet the quiet kid with a guitar and a problem of mumbling everything he said, which wasn’t much in the first place.

Emily had immediately gone into Mom Mode and had given him food and water and asked him where his parents were, where he was going, how he had gotten all the way out here by himself, etc. She got an answer to the first question but shrugs to all the others. Matt was worried about him as well but was doing a better job of hiding it.

By the time they had resolved what to do with Bur, it was time for them to pack up and hit the road.

Bur sat beside Emily on the seat of the first wagon, and he was leaning against the back of the cavanas, asleep, within only thirty minutes of leaving.

*****

That night, he sat with them as they prepared dinner and set up camp. When they had all eaten, they gave him an extra bedroll, which he pushed up against the wheel of the closest wagon, keeping his distance from them.

Logan pulled out his guitar and asked Bur if he wanted to play his, which he had protectively kept close to him for the whole day. He shook his head, and appeared content to listen to Logan play. 

*****

This pattern repeated for another day. He didn’t really talk to any of them and when he did, he only answered questions, his responses always succinct.

That day they finally came out of a savanna and were able to camp near a forest.

“Have you heard the legend of The Wandering Musician?” Logan asked him that night. Wilbur shook his head no. “Well there was once this vagabond with a guitar. He loved to travel these roads and play for anyone who would listen. One day, bandits killed him and stole everything he had. All they left him was his guitar. He haunts the forests travelers and merchants camp by, and sometimes he plays for them.”

“Emily and I didn’t believe the legend but Logan here has been able to play with him for the last few nights, before we entered the savanna.” Matt added.

“But ghosts aren’t real.” Wilbur said quietly. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“But he is real.” Logan said. “We told him we’d be crossing through a savanna but he said that he’d be waiting for us at the next forest we camped by, once we got out.” He gestured to the forest beside them.

“He talks?” Wilbur asked, trying his hardest not to smile. It was made slightly easier by the fact that he could bury his head into the tops of his knees.

“Well, no.” Emily said. “We can ask him yes or no questions and he strums back a response. A quick one for yes, a long one for no. We asked him if he’d be here when we got back and he said yes.” Wilbur nodded at her simple explanation. He liked Emily. From afar, she seemed aloof and hard to reach, but she was actually really nice and was constantly looking out for him. “But we can’t hear him play until we go to sleep.” She looked at Matt and Logan. “Maybe if I can’t get you to go to sleep at a reasonable time, a ghost can.”

After some playful banter between the group of three, they all settled into their sleeping bags.

A few hours passed and Wilbur turned on his side, looking at his guitar.

After some heated internal debate, he slowly reached out and brushed his fingers against the strings. They made a nice, quiet sound but no one woke up. He did it a few more times, and quickly pulled his hand back to him when he heard someone shifting. 

Within a few minutes, he felt a light hand on his shoulder. He turned over and saw Emily squatting next to him. “Hey. The ghost is here if you want to hear him play.” Wilbur nodded and sat up, watching as Matt lit a fire and as Logan grabbed his guitar.

They all faced the forest, their three backs to him. He silently moved his guitar into his lap and smiled.

“Ghost!” Logan said loudly into the empty forest, “We’re back! And we have a friend with us! He plays guitar too! What’re the odds?” The woods, of course, did not respond. Wilbur strummed his guitar gently and they all turned to face him. Logan held a finger up to his lips in a shushing sign. “Not yet, dude. You gotta wait on him. He’s weird like that.” They all sat there for another minute in silence before Logan said again, “Um, ghost? You there?”

Wilbur signed and looked down to his guitar. He positioned his fingers like he had almost every night for the last week and started playing.

Matt turned around. “You have to wa-”

Wilbur ignored him and started the song, anxiety twisting an ugly knot in his stomach. “All of our fear and the fire, of the end of the world,” He was careful to keep his voice light and clear as he sang, “happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl. Happens grace, happens sweet, happily, I’m unfazed here, too.” He went through the whole song, forgetting about where he was playing as the song continued. The butterflies in his stomach started to slowly disappear as he sang, quiet voice carrying out clearly through the small area. “Wasteland baby, I’m in love, I’m in love with you.” He continued on, leaning his head against the wheel of the wagon as he sang the last verse. “And the day we’ll watch the death of the sun, that the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on, then you’ll gaze..” He dragged the last note out, a smile finding its way on his face as he let the music fade into the night.

The moment passed and he opened his eyes, looking at the stars above him. He looked back down to his guitar and put his fingers on the strings, setting up for another familiar song. He strummed the first chord and was taking a breath, ready to sing, when he was interrupted by Logan. “What the hell.”

He looked up and to the faces of the three of them, all in varying stages of shock. “Don’t interrupt me when I’m trying to play, please.” He said in the loudest voice he’d ever used around them. 

Logan’s mouth moved up and down, but no sound came out of it. Wilbur raised an eyebrow and he finally spoke. “So, are you, like, the ghost?”

Wilbur shrugged. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Matt shook his head. “But you’re the one who’s been playing with Logan for the last week?”

Wilbur lolled his head from side to side. “Yeah. Pretty much. I’ve played for lots of people but you’re the first to play with me.” He looked back at Logan. “So thanks, I guess. Got to learn a few new songs.”

Emily’s eyes were wide. “You’re the ghost.” 

Wilbur went back to his guitar and started trying to replay By and By, hopefully without interruption this time. “Yep.” He said, popping the p. He strummed the first few chords. “Driving through West Virginia,” He began, “and I’ve seldom been thinner.” 

Logan sighed and readjusted the guitar in his lap. “We’re talking about all of this in the morning when we’re sure this isn’t a dream.” He picked up the chord that Wilbur was on and started singing along.

*****

The next morning they didn’t wake up to a cryptic eleven year old with a guitar.

Instead, they woke up to a map with multiple trade routes mapped out in red pencil, and a small note pinned to the corner.

_Thanks for the fun. Tell anyone what you found out, and I won’t be the only ghost. ___  
_-Wilbur ‘The Wandering Musician’ ___

*****

Thirteen year old Wilbur slipped out the wagon, into a city surrounded by black walls. He slipped through the crowd, pickpocketing as he went, the monotony of the routine soothing, in an odd way.

He found a nice alley to spend a month in and settled down against the wall, humming a half put together song to himself.

*****

Wilbur ran through the crowded city streets, his mind stuck in a loop of ‘ _crap, crap, crap, crap- ___’.

He shoved people out of his way, shouts of ‘Thief’ and ‘Stop right there!’ ringing out behind him, going well with the sound of clanking iron armor. 

He had decided to get greedy. He had decided to take a little more than usual, and now he was running through the cobblestone streets of this city that he didn’t really like anymore, the city’s guard hot on his heels.

He saw the gates looming ahead of him and he picked up his pace. If he could just get to the road he could lay low for a few hours, then he could sneak back into the city, grab his few things from the alley, leave the city again, and hitchhike his way into the next town. 

He heard the shouts fade slightly as he ran through the crowd, people jumping out of his way. He smiled. This could work. He spared a glance back over his shoulder and saw the guard struggling to get to him. He stuck his tongue out at them.

And then he ran straight into something. His vision was filled with white, before rapidly switching to black.

He opened his eyes, painfully aware of the dull ache of his head and the slight ringing in his ears. He was flat on his back and someone with a brown hood covering their face was bent down, looking at him. He sat up slowly and the person moved. He was met with the sight of a white horse with a crooked snout. He looked behind him and saw a man wearing a green cloak and a striped bucket hat looking at him worriedly.

“You ok, mate?” He asked. Wilbur slowly nodded, trying to piece together what had happened. Another shout came from the guards and he quickly got to his feet. The man looked towards that guards. “Ah.” He looked at the short person with the hood. “Do you mind keeping him here, Tech?” The guy shook his head and reached out, grabbing Wilbur’s sleeve.

“Hey! Let me go!” He tried tugging his sleeve away but ‘Tech’’s hand didn’t budge. 

The blond man turned back to the rapidly approaching guard and shrugged off his cloak. It hit the ground, revealing two large black wings. Wilbur froze, staring at them as the man lifted them up and spread them out, blocking his view of the guards. The guy holding him hostage seemed unfazed, bending down to pick up the cloak.

“What seems to be the problem here?” The man said.

He heard the guards stop. “Phil!’ One of them said. “Did you happen to see a boy run by? Brown hair, yellow sweater?”

“Hmm, can’t say I have. Sorry.” Phil said. Wilbur was caught between wanting to scream of fear and wanting to cry out of relief.

“Oh, well, sorry to bother you.”

“It’s nothing, mate.” Phil responded. His wings shifted up, blocking Wilbur from the guards even more. “Why?”

“Well he stole from someone. Got caught in the act and tried running away.”

Phil sighed. “Well that means he could be anywhere. You better start looking.”

“Yes sir!” He heard clanking armor as the guards ran off. 

After a moment, Phil turned back around, taking his cloak from the guy still holding him hostage, and he folded his wings back behind his back, slipping his cloak on. He looked at Wilbur and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So what was that all about?”

Wilbur shrugged, one arm partially held down by his arm being gripped. “I’m young and stupid.” He smiled. “Now, thank you for covering for me, I think I’ll be on my way now.” He tried pulling his arm away but was unsuccessful.

Phil raised one eyebrow skeptically. “Where do you live?”

“Why does it matter?”

“We’ll drop you off.”

Wilbur sighed exasperatedly. “Moon Way.”

Phil smiled. “Great! I know some people who live on that road. Who’re your parents?”

Wilbur’s mind came to a screeching halt. “That’s not important information.”

“Sure it is! We can drop you off and explain to them how we,” He gestured to the three of them, “met. I’m sure they’d be pleased.”

Wilbur looked to the side, away from Phil so they wouldn’t have to make eye contact. “Fine. Ain’t got none.”

Phil uncrossed his arms and walked to the horse. “Yeah I thought so.” Wilbur glared at him. “Techno.” His arm was released from its grip and he drew it back from Techno. Phil took the horse’s reins and turned to look at him. “Now, I live on a farm and could sure use some help. How about we go to wherever you’ve holed yourself up, grab your things, and I can give you a job until you eventually run away into the night, never to be seen again?”

Wilbur huffed, resigning himself to his fate. “I’m Wilbur.”

Phil smiled. “Phil.”

*****

They left the city and walked a ways into the woods. Techno and Phil walked on one side of the horse, and Wilbur stubbornly positioned himself on the other side, guitar slung over his shoulder and a few coins in his pocket.

They walked into a clearing in the woods with a nice cottage and farm pushed to the back. Once they were in the clearing, Phil took off his cloak and hat, throwing them over the horse’s saddle. Techno unclipped his cloak and took it off. Wilbur stared at him as he put his cloak over the horse, like Phil.

Phil didn’t notice Wilbur staring and started leading the horse over to some small stables. “We have an extra room but we’ll have to clear it out, so you can sleep on the couch until then.” He put the horse away and turned around to the two boys, who were in the middle of a staring contest. “Ah.” He walked back over to them and placed a hand on Techno’s shoulder. “This is Techno, my son.”

Wilbur swiveled his head to look at Phil, his eyes wide. “Your _son ___?! His hair is pink!” He gestured to Techno for emphasis.

Phil nodded. “He’s adopted.” He turned around and motioned for them to follow. “Come on, I’ll show you around and explain what you’ll do.”

*****

Wilbur’s schedule took a full one eighty.

Instead of the alley, he woke up on a couch in a warm home. Before anyone else got up, he’d gone sit outside on the porch and play his guitar. He’d stop when he heard noises from inside, and then sit outside until Phil came out, usually to tell him to come get breakfast. He actually ate breakfast now. And lunch and dinner. It was pretty nice.

He ate at the table with Phil until Techno came all but falling down the stairs. He’d get up and go put away his plate, and Techno would grab some breakfast and eat, looking dead to the world.

Then he’d get a list of chores from Phil. Sometimes he gathered grain, sometimes he helped with the animals, sometimes he’d just do small things here and there. But more often than not, he wasn’t given much work to do. One day when he had been given no chores, Phil showed him to a room upstairs that had a few chests lining the walls.

“I need some help moving these into the next room so you can stay here.”

And so it became his pet project. He’d finish work and move the chests into the third room in the hallway. The hallway had four doors, two on each side. One was the bathroom and the door right across from it was Techno’s. His room was beside Techno’s and he was moving the chests into the room across from it, beside the bathroom. He finished within just a week of coming to the house and Phil moved some simple furniture into the room. So now he woke up in a bed, which he considered a huge upgrade.

One day he finished his work early and was just sitting on the porch, head propped up in his hands, when Phil came outside. “Done already?” Wilbur nodded. “Well then, anything you want to do?”

Wilber shook his head, looking out into the small fields, where Techno was hard at work in his potato patch. That was the one place he wasn’t allowed to work in, and he found it a little odd how much time the other kid spent there. “What’s his deal?”

Phil came to the steps and sat down beside him. “You’ve going to have to be more specific, mate.”

Wilbur wrinkled his nose, thinking of everything he could ask. Why was his hair pink? Why wouldn’t he talk to him? Why the potatoes? “All of it.”

Phil gave a breathy laugh. “Well, I don’t know why he looks like that. He just came that way.”

“Came that way?”

“I found him in a bit of an odd situation when he was seven. He had no parents, no one watching out for him, he didn’t even speak English. That was, let’s see now,” He rolled his head back and murmured to himself, “well he’s elven now, so,” He picked his head back up. “About four or five years ago. He’s pretty shy and you’ve only been here a week and half, so I wouldn’t expect him to start talking for at least another few days. And the potato thing is recent. There’s this kid in the village and I think they’re competing or something.” He shrugged. “Not really sure.”

Wilbur nodded. “I’m guessing he’s competitive?”

Phil laughed. “You have no idea. Loves fighting,” Wilbur’s eyes trailed over to the training dummy set up near the stable, “I won’t let him spar anyone yet, though. Can’t let his ego get too big at such a young age.”

Wilbur smiled. “I’ll try not to challenge him to anything then.”

Phil shook his head fondly. “Yeah yeah. We’ll see how long that lasts. Just wait until he starts talking to you. He’s got a sharp tongue. Probably from all those books.” They sat in silence for a minute. “What do you like to do?”

Wilbur’s shoulders tensed. He kept his gaze firmly locked on the farms. “Play guitar.” He finally said quietly.

Phil nodded. “You ever heard of the Wandering Musician?”

Wilbur laughed. “Come on, Phil. Ghosts aren’t real.”

Phil smiled. “But people have heard him. One group claimed to have seen him, although they wouldn’t tell anyone what he looked like.”

“They’re just feeding into the lies.”

Phil laughed. “You like anything else, or just the guitar?”

Wilbur shrugged. “Like maps. Geography.”

Phil nodded. “I’ve got some in the house, along with tons of books if you want to take a look.” Wilbur turned to him and nodded.

Wilbur stayed up all night that night, looking at the maps scattered across the floor of his room, all of them just barely touching. Books, compasses, and pencils served as weights to hold the edges down and he fell asleep sprawled across the floor.

He woke up on top of his bed, maps neatly folded and stacked beside a pile of books on his desk.

*****

Techno did start talking to him around the time Phil said. By the end of his second week staying with them, he was sitting on the couch reading when Techno walked in, caked in dirt, and asked him what he was reading.

“Land.” He said, barely looking up from the book.

“That’s the name of the book?”

“Yep.” He nodded, popping the p.

“What’s it about?”

Wilbur flipped the page, “It’s about who got what countries and how it’s impacted us.”

Techno nodded and started walking into the kitchen, where Phil was cooking. “You should try Art of War.” Wilbur hummed in response and smiled when he heard Phil yelling about how dirty Techno was.

*****

Phil was happy with how things with Wilbur were turning out. He had expected Wilbur to bolt out the door with most of their valuables the second or third night, but that slight suspicion had faded completely as soon as walked into Wilbur’s room one morning when he wasn’t on the porch, only to find him passed out on the floor, surrounded by maps and books.

He had sighed and put Wilbur on top of his bed and cleaned up the mess. As he left the room that morning, he turned around and looked at the boy, and his heart swelled. He knew that if Wilbur did end up running away, he wouldn’t rest until he found the boy- _his boy ___-again.

Wilbur had started sleeping in later since that day, only waking up when Phil would come and get him up (or more recently, Techno, who would just open the door and throw something at Wilbur before leaving, no words exchanged).

He hid his smile behind his coffee cup as his sons came running down the stairs one morning, Wilbur yelling about how Techno had called him a bad word and Techno yelling back about how he deserved it, which Wilbur rebuked whole heartedly. Techno threw a pillow at him, and somehow, they both ended up sparing in the yard at nine in the morning.

It had only taken two months for Wilbur to become absorbed into their little family.

*****

The first time Wilbur called him dad, Phil almost had a heart attack from pure joy. Somehow, he managed to hide it well enough and react calmly. He had gotten used to Techno calling him dad sometimes, but it was entirely new with Wilbur.

‘Phil’ and ‘Dad’ became the two most interchangeable words in the household, to Phil’s pure elatement. 

*****

One day, there was a knock at the door, and when Phil went to answer it, he was met with the sight of a smiling Sam.

“Hey Phil!” Sam said. Phil smiled back at the sight of his friend, who he hadn’t seen in awhile. Then he remembered why he hadn’t been to the village in almost two months and he thanked every being who could ever be out there that Wilbur and Techno were in the backyard.

“Hey, Sam.” He said, opening the door fully. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah, that’s what I came here about.” Sam said, walking into the house. Phil followed closely behind, praying he wouldn’t notice the extra pair of shoes by the door, the extra books lying out, or even the guitar in the corner of the room. Luckily for him, Sam was oblivious, and they sat down at the kitchen table, Phil positioning his wings just so they’d inconspicuously cover up the windows facing the back yard. “We haven’t seen you, in like, almost three months. And I know that now you’re a dad and you can’t visit us as much, but like, it’s been too long.”

Phil laughed and hoped he didn’t sound as tense as he felt. “Yeah, sorry. I just got a little busy with something that came up and things have been slipping my mind.”

Sam laughed. “Are you talking about that Potato War thing? I think it’s pretty funny. Like, we knew Techno was competitive, but this is a new one.”

Phil smiled. “Yeah, the uh, the Potato War. It’s pretty insane but like, we’re doing good, Techno’s just been really into it, you know?”

Sam furrowed his brow. “You ok man? You seem distracted.”

Phil waved him off with a laugh. “Yeah I’m good, it’s just been a bit mu-”

The front door flew open and the both quickly turned towards it. Wilbur came running in, Techno hot on his heels, holding a wooden sword. “Daaddddd!” He yelled, running straight into the kitchen and grabbing a steak knife, turning around to face Techno, holding the knife in front of him like a weapon. “Techno’s trying to kill me!”

Techno stopped in front of Wilbur, holding his sword out. “What do you think that’s gonna do?” He said tauntingly.

Wilbur smiled and lowered his stance. “En garde, bi-”

“Boys.” Phil said sternly. They both glanced over to him, where they saw a shocked Sam sitting at the table across from a frazzled Phil. “We have company.”

Techno stood up straight and held the sword behind his back. “Hallo.”

Wilbur just shifted so that he was pointing the knife at Sam.

Phil cleared his throat. “Sam, this is Wilbur.” Sam didn’t respond. “Wilbur, this is Sam, one of my friends.”

Wilbur nodded and stood up, putting the knife down, relieving Phil beyond anything. “Hello.”

“Ah, hello.” Sam said, getting up and walking towards the door. “Well, Phil, this has been good, but now I believe that I must go get the Nihachus so we can all chew you out together.” He reached the door, waved to Phil, and left.

He left and Wilbur turned to Phil. “What’s happening?”

Phil sighed and sunk down in his chair. “Well, I’m not entirely sure.”

Wilbur turned to Techno, who gave him a shrug.

*****

It only took an hour for Phil to be facing his three friends in his living room, a strained smile on his face.

Wilnur sat beside him on the couch, looking very confused and slightly uncomfortable. He had one of Phil’s wings draped across his shoulders like a safety blanket and he was curled into it a bit, his knees tucked up against his chest. Techno and Niki sat on the floor, ten year old Niki braiding Techno’s hair. Soon, she’d finish and they’d switch places.

“So,” Kari started. “let’s first state the obvious.” Wilbur’s grip around his knees grew a bit tighter. “You didn’t warn us.” And then Wilbur got to watch with amazement as his father got chewed out light heartedly by three other adults.

He, Niki, and Techno went into the yard later, where Niki taught him how to braid Techno’s hair and where he taught her guitar chords, because apparently, she was learning guitar. Techno was content to watch them become acquainted, every now and then commenting on some odd topic.

Phil, Sam, Issac, and Kari sat out on the porch, catching up and watching Phil’s sons get schooled by Niki in making flower crowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The guards: That boy is a thief  
> Phil, looking a Wilbur: I don't appreciate you talking to my son that way
> 
> Thanks for reading and thanks for all the recent support! It's so nice to read all your lovely comments!


	4. Danse Macabre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I did not give this work over to someone else or anything, I just changed my username. Just wanted to clear that up in case you got a notification with an unfamiliar name attached  
> 2\. I usually try to include at least some lyrics in the chapters but I couldn't this time because Danse Macabre is an instrumental piece  
> 3\. These chapters just keep getting longer, huh? I swear it's an accident

He was a kid. 

A kid who lost it all in one fell swoop.

His village was hit by drought, and with drought followed famine. Food prices went up, farmers struggled to make crops grow, parents struggled to feed their kids.

And then came the disease.

Children were left to care for their dying parents, clerics were worked to the bone, and medicine was as scarce as the dwindling food.

He was unfortunate enough to be caught in the middle of all of it.

His parents died when he was eight, and he looked around and decided that his life in this village was done.

He stole all the food he could without getting caught and ran.

*****

He scammed people for money and when people started catching on to him, he stole more food and money and skipped town.

He was ten and he stole food from fields and swindled people for money to survive. 

*****

~~He didn’t mean to do it, honestly.~~

~~He did it, but he didn't mean to do all of it.~~

So he did it on purpose. But apparently, his actions had consequences.

He ran through the streets of Hallowdale, trying to get away from this mess he’d gotten himself into. Behind him, an entire bevy of teenagers to young adults chased him, each of them furious beyond end.

In his hand, he held a rusty gold locket.

Which wasn’t that special on its own, but became significantly more valuable when you found out that it was the property of an important city leader.

A gang leader.

Tommy had accidentally stolen from the mob.

He ran through an alley, climbing the fence at the end and jumping off to the other side. He heard yelling from behind the flimsy wooden wall and jumped up, racing off. 

Of course, this was a gang he was trying to outrun, so another group cut him off as he was running out of the alley. He ran straight into the chest of the person in the front, falling back and hitting the ground.

“Whatcha got there, kid?” He asked. Tommy sighed and held out the locket to the man. He had ratty black hair that he had obviously tried to hide beneath an old brown cap. It didn't work. The gangster bent down and took the jewelry from his outstretched hand, examining it for a second.

“Ain’t that Prissy’s?” Someone behind the man asked, a girl with blonde white hair in a bob cut. Tommy stood up and started to brush himself off, glaring at the gang.

There were around seven in this group, ages ranging anywhere between seventeen (the short girl with the white hair) to twenty-five (the man holding the locket).

“I reckon so.” The man said, slipping the necklace into a pocket at his side. “Where’d you get it kid?”

Tommy didn’t have time to respond, as he heard the sound of feet hitting the ground behind him. He turned around to see the group of people that had been chasing him dropping onto his side of the fence. He let some of the tension leak from shoulders. He’d already been caught, this would blow over easily.

There were four people in the group that he had been running from, and one of them stepped forward. The man behind Tommy stepped in front of him, and they met each other in the center of the alley, in a weird standoff.

Tommy felt a hand grab his shoulder as another girl from behind pulled him into the outskirts of their group.

The man from the chasing group was the first to break the silence. “That kid’s got something that belongs to us.” He said, jutting his chin out minutely, towards Tommy.

“What’s he got? Must be important if all ‘the great and powerful Crimson Regiment’ is in an uproar all over town.” Ratty cap said, sarcasm clear as day in his tone. 

“Well that’s none of ya business, now is it, Niks?” 

Niks smiled wryly. “Well it becomes my business when you’re harassing a member of my gang.” The man took a step back. Niks put a hand under his cap and ran it through his hair. “I guess I could let this slide if this incident happens to slip your mind.”

The man who’d been chasing him didn’t back down. “I wasn’t aware you got a new member.”

“Well I ain’t gotta tell you about my gang, now do I? Now, this little mishap goin’ be forgotten about?”

Everyone stood there in silence, the two men glaring each other down. Finally, the guy motioned with his hand and he and the other three men hopped back over the fence and left the way they came. Niks turned back to his group and flicked his hand towards Tommy.

“You got a name?”

He gulped. “Tommy.” The girl’s hand was still on his shoulder, and he was honestly scared to move.

Niks smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his nice. “Ah, ok ok. Now, Tommy, where’d you get this necklace?” He asked, patting his pocket.

Tommy put on the bravest face he could. “Nicked it off some old hag.” That got a few laughs from the group, and a genuine smile from Niks.

“That’s nice, kid. Did you know who it belonged to?” Tommy shook his head. “Well, why don’t I tell you?” Niks gestured to the group and they started walking out of the alley. The woman let go of Tommy but he didn’t run, instead planting himself by Niks’s side. 

They started walking to the abandoned section on the outskirts of town, while Niks explained just how much trouble had gotten into, though it wasn’t phrased that way.

*****

They reached a larger house in the center of an abandoned district and by the time they got there, Tommy had been given a run down on, _everything_ , basically.

What he understood was that there were two gangs, the Crimson Regiment and the Jadebreakers. And they _despised_ each other.

The necklace Tommy had stolen belonged to the head of the Crimson Regiment, one Ailicia Herts. Or as literally everyone in the Jadebreakers liked to call her, Prissy.

Niks was the leader of the Jadebreakers. Where the Regiment was composed of members of high class who used their connections in the underworld to control everything else, the Jadebreakers were a group of ragtag street kids who stuck together through thick and thin and whose general purpose in life was to piss off the Regiment. 

Tommy was very happy he was running with the right crowd.

Apparently the locket could be used as a slight leverage against Prissy because she actually cared for it the slightest bit. No one could figure out what was inside, because all their attempts to open it had resulted in utter failure. Maybe it was enchanted. Magic wasn’t common but it certainly wasn’t rare. Between the enchantments anyone could cast with the right materials and experience, to the random hybrids that would sometimes wander the streets, magic was definitely present in everyday life.

And this locket definitely had unbreaking on it, because Niks and Tommy had been watching from the sidelines for at least half an hour as countless bricks had been dropped on it, not leaving even the smallest of scratches.

It was finally declared a lost cause and Niks took it back, tucking it into his pocket once again. 

And now that the main problem was out of the way, all that was left to be dealt with was Tommy.

Niks turned to him, arms crossed, as the people from his group earlier started cleaning up the mess they had made. “So, you’ve done us a good favor. Do you want anything in return or do you just want to go home and back to your normal life?”

Tommy smiled. In the hour he’d been with these guys, he’d already opened up a lot. They seemed to enjoy his brash personality and rude humor. “Nah, hangin’ out with you guys is much better than anything I’ve got going on. Besides, I don’t have anything to go back to.”

Niks smiled and shook his head. “You’re a little young to be that opposed to your parents, much less join our gang. What are you? Ten?”

Tommy glared at him. “I’m eleven, actually. And I don’t have any parents to be fighting with.”

Niks’s eyes went wide at that. “You don’t have parents?”

“Nah. Died not too long ago. Skipped town and tried to make the best of it.”

Niks looked at him with something in his eyes. “Well,” he said after a tense silence, “if you really want to stick with us, I don’t see what’s holding you back. We could use someone like you if you’re able to pull a necklace of Prissy.”

Tommy smiled and nodded, and Niks called over his gang of hooligans and informed them that they did, in fact, have a new member. They all whooped and hollered and celebrated, and told Tommy he’d have to be introduced to the others, whatever that meant.

“Now.” Niks said after a sufficient amount of revelry. “Who wants to induct him?”

Tommy whipped his head towards Niks. “Induct me?”

Niks nodded and a few people in the crowd raised their hands. “Rox.” He said. A girl with bright orange hair, a cropped brown jacket, and a nose piercing stepped out from the crowd. “Why don’t you explain?”

“Alright.” She said, pulling down her jacket to show a simple tattoo on her shoulder. “We all get one, it hurts like hell for a little bit, and bam, welcome to the club.” Niks lifted the hem of his shirt up to show his tattoo on his hip. It was a simple design. A diamond shape with a pickaxe drawn right above it, looking like it was about to sweep down. The pickaxe was simple, made of a straight line and a curved line right on top. The Jadebreakers. Tommy nodded.

“Rox will do it for you since she’s pretty good at it. You don’t have to do it immediately, we’ll give you some time to think things through. I mean, you literally just met us. If you do decide you want to go through with this, just tell us where you want the tattoo and we’ll get things set up. If not, hey, we understand.”

Tommy nodded again. “How about my collar bone?”

Niks looked at Rox with disbelief. “Did he not just hear me?”

Rox smiled wide and started leaving the room, presumably to go grab whatever it was she needed. “I like this one, Niks. Kid’s got moxie.” Tommy smiled wide. He didn’t know what moxie meant, but it sounded cool.

*****

Within three years of losing his family, he had found another one. Sure, there were over forty of them, and sure they weren’t the most legal family out there, but they were still a family. He was like the little brother that had an entire army of older siblings that no one would mess with.

He was introduced to the rest of the gang, who inhabited the rest of the abandoned houses around the area. The large house in the center belonged to Niks and his little clique. Tommy got to stay in the big house, although he hung out with anyone willing to spend time with an eleven year old pickpocket.

He also had a sweet tattoo right below his collar bone.

*****

He did what he could for the gang. He nicked loose money from people in the streets and he stole crops from the farms outside the village. He scammed people into buying trinkets they didn’t need (not like they worked anyway) and all the money went to him and his friends.

Rox (turns out her full name was Roxy, but no one called her that) showed him how to run from guards without leading them back home.

Niks taught him how to act tough and how to throw a punch without breaking his entire fist.

Celeste told him cool stories about warriors and mages and magicians. She was the only one that had tattoos other than the gang sign. Moons, suns, and stars covered her arms, hands, and back, mixing in with unreadable ruins that looked like they moved if you stared long enough.

Violet was curt with him but she taught him how to take care of basic wounds, when she wasn’t busy caring for someone who was sick or hurt. She was the mom of the gang, the only solid logic and reasoning. Tommy didn’t like her that much but valued her input.

Declan taught him to cuss, something that no one but Tommy seemed to appreciate.

Jolien helped him learn to read and write since his education stopped once he left home. She was always happy to teach him something he didn’t know.

Maverick instructed him in the fine art of being a bother. They pulled pranks on anyone they could and ran when they got caught.

Bacco tried to teach him to cook. He was permanently banned from the kitchen after the third fire.

One day he was walking through the ~~territory~~ neighborhood when he saw Phoebe outside one of the houses, kneeling next to a small garden. He walked up to her. They hadn’t talked much, but the conversations they did have were very nice. She looked up when she heard him coming.

“Hello Tommy!” She smiled and stood up, wiping her dirt covered gloves on her overalls, leaving smears of soil on the shorts. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“What are you doing?” He asked.

She motioned to the ground and the dirty tools laying on the stone path. “Gardening! Want to join?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know how.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him down to the ground with her. He shifted onto his knees and took a pair of gloves she put in his hands. “I can teach you! It’s about my turn anyway.”

He put on the gloves. They were slightly big. “Your turn?”

She nodded and handed him a trowel. “Well, we don’t get many new members. And you’re the only kid here, so we’re all trying to make sure that when you leave, you’ll know enough to live well, based on what we’ve all taught you.”

Tommy shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”

She smiled fondly. “Think that now, Tommy, but you’re too good to stay here with us forever. You’re going to go off one day and find a better life than the one you have here.”

“I don’t want to leave.” Tommy said, looking at her with a small plea in his eyes.

“Well,” She said, tucking her long black hair behind her ear from where it’d fallen out of her ponytail, “you’re twelve and the only family you’ve really got is an overprotective group of criminals. So, yeah, you're going to leave one day. Not now, but one day. Now,” she said, smacking her hands together in a muffled clap, “what do you know already about gardening?”

“It involves plants.” He said, deadpan, deciding to leave the previous conversation alone.

She nodded, not put down at all by his lackluster response. “Better than nothing!” She motioned to the row of bright blue flowers in the stone box. “These are cornflowers.”

*****

Two weeks later, Phoebe helped him set up a small garden of his own behind the house.

*****

Three years.

He got to spend three years with the Jadebreakers before things went downhill.

He went to bed one night on the bottom floor of their house, everyone’s sleeping bags grouped together and a dim fire in the fireplace.

He woke up in the town jail, on a stiff bed, with a crick in his neck.

He sat straight up and looked around the small cell. Bars and a small bed. That was it. He got off the bed and ran to the door and held the bars, trying to peer out.

“Hello?” He called out.

“Tommy?” 

“Niks!” He cried, relief clear in his voice. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Tommy,” That was Roxy. Her voice was soft, a far cry from how gruff she usually sounded. “Tommy, it’s over.”

“Guys. Guys what’s happening? Where are we? Why can’t I see you?” He gripped the bars in his hands tight.

“Tommy we got caught.” Niks said. He sounded tired and Tommy could tell he was down the hall. “The guards came in the middle of the night. We’re charged with arson, thievery, disorderly conduct, and breaking and entering.”

“And vandalism!” Someone cried.

“Thanks, Celeste.” Niks responded. 

“What’s going to happen?” Tommy asked.

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Rox said. Tommy sunk down to the floor and curled up into a ball, back pressed against the bars. “Don’t worry about it.”

*****

He didn’t know how long it was before he heard a door open somewhere and three sets of feet started walking down the hall. Two pairs of boots, one pair of heels.

They stopped somewhere down the hall.

“Anything to say, Nicholas?” A woman's voice said. Tommy could hear the sneer.

“Yeah. But can we talk somewhere a bit more private?” Niks said.

There was silence. A cell door opened down the hall and four pairs of feet left the building.

*****

It was a long time before they came back. No one spoke while they waited and this time, the people didn’t leave. Instead, they moved down the hall, towards Tommy’s cell.

The feet stopped outside his cell and he looked up from where he sat on the bed. 

A woman in her thirties was flanked by two guards. In one hand, she clutched a very old locket.

“Get up.” She said. Tommy glared at her from the bed he was curled up on. “I said get up.” She said, frowning. Tommy let go of his knees and slid off the bed. She looked at one of the guards behind her and he stepped forward, unlocking the cell and opening the door. She waved her hand forward and Tommy hesitantly stepped out.

He looked to the side and saw another cell. Roxy sat in it, looking at him. She smiled sadly and tapped her shoulder. He slowly reached up and touched his collar, right where his tatoo was.

( _“See you later, gremlin.” She said, smacking her shoulder lightly._

_“Why’d you do that?” Eleven year old Tommy asked._

_“Do what?”_

_“Why’d you hit your shoulder?”_

_“Oh!” Rox said, realization dawning.” It’s our little sign, of sorts. You touch where your tattoo is as a way of saying goodbye and good luck.”_

_Tommy nodded. “Is that why Niks is always patting his side?”_

_“Yeah, pretty much.”_

_He smacked his chest. “See you later, then!” She smiled._ )

The woman led him through the hall and he looked at the wall, watching the cells go by, a friend sitting in each of them. When they saw him, they all smiled and touched hands, arms, wrists, chest, shoulders. He always tapped his collar in response. The last cell was Niks’s.

He stopped. The people escorting him stopped as well, watching him.

Niks smiled at him. Unlike the others, he was standing and his hands were cuffed in front of him. He held out his hands. Tommy reached out and took what Niks was holding, balling the small thing in his hand and holding it at his side. Niks touched his hip and Tommy tapped his chest.

He was led out by the guards and the woman and only when they were moving again did he look at what Niks had handed him.

A scuffed silver ring.

*****

He was let go. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but he was let go.

He went back home and opened the door to the large house. It felt empty without everyone else there. 

He grabbed Declan’s sleeping bag, Celeste’s blanket, Rox’s red beanie, and Niks’s bag. He filled the bag halfway up with food and then threw in a cup, all the money he could find, a box of matches, three of Jolien’s books, and a bar of soap.

He walked outside and grabbed his gloves and shovel from the yard. He looked at his flowers. They had just sprouted and Tommy had been so excited to watch them grow this season. He left the backyard. They’d die in the first cold snap that winter.

He took one last look around the house. 

Thirteen year old Tommy left his gang, but not by choice.

*****

He found another village. He fell back into his old routine.

Steal, swindle, run from the authorities, almost get caught, skip town.

He found another village.

He stole, he swindled, he ran from the authorities, he almost got caught, he skipped town.

He found another village.

*****

He walked through huge gates and tall black walls. Another village. Same routine.

He looked at the old map in his hand, looking for the name of the town.

Hearthwell.

He folded the map up and slipt it into the inside pocket of his cloak.

He started walking through the streets, bumping into people as he went, slipping his hand in pockets and taking coins when they weren’t paying attention.

He found an alley soon enough.

*****

Phil, Techno, and Wilbur walked into the town, Phil leading them through the familiar streets, toward the Nihachu’s. 

He was keeping up a small conversation with Wil when someone small bumped into him. He stumbled a bit but looked back to the person. He couldn’t see a face, just a brown hood. They held up their hands apologetically and kept walking. Phil moved along but turned around when he heard another collision. They made the same gesture and Wilbur held up his hands too. They scurried away.

“You alright Wil?” Phil asked.

Wilbur nodded and held up Phil’s money pouch. Phil started patting his pockets and looked back to Wilbur when he realised that yes, that was his pouch. “I know I said I’d stop but I just couldn't let him get away with that.” Wilbur said, holding out the money.

Phil took it and tucked it back in his pocket. “Ok that’s fine, just no real robbery.” And then, to himself, “Can’t believe I didn’t feel that.”

“Yeah, the guy was good.” Wilbur said, nodding.

“Nah. Phil’s just getting old.” Techno said nonchalantly.

Phil had to deal with the teasing all the way to his friend's house.

*****

Tommy rifled through his pockets when he realised he didn’t have the money that he definitely took off that guy. He thought back to the other guy that he bumped into and he mentally face palmed.

*****

He saw the same guy later that day and decided to test his luck. He shoulder checked him and kept walking, not even attempting to apologize. He was able to nab five coins from him but, in return, he lost six.

Tommy smiled.

*****

Wilbur played with a coin in his hand on the way home.

He smiled to himself.

*****

Wilbur started going into the village more often, which Phil wasn’t completely opposed to, but it was a little strange.

Especially the day he came home one day with more money than he had left with.

“Wilbur.” Phil said, when he realized what his son had done.

“Yes?”

“Where did you get that?” Phil said, nodding towards the small coin in Wilbur’s hand that he definitely hadn’t left the house with.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Wilbur said quickly, pocketing the money.

“It looks like you’re pickpocketing again.”

Wilbur faltered. “Ok so it’s slightly what it looks like.”

“Wil.” Phil said, using his dad voice.

Wilbur started waving his hands around. “It’s with the guy from last week. He tried nicking me again coming home after we saw Niki so I took some from him as well and now I think I’ve accidentally started a war with him and it’s actually pretty fun because he’s pretty good.” He said in a rush of words.

Phil was stunned. He didn’t really have a plan for this.

“Five bucks says he’s in a gang.” Techno said from the couch, where he’d been listening the whole time. Phil snapped out of his stupor. 

“Ten bucks says he’s not and he’s just trying to make it in this hard, rough world.” Wilbur retorted, acting dramatic for the last part of the sentence. Phil rolled his eyes. Just because this was a hardcore world didn’t mean it was _that_ difficult.

“No money and if you ever catch him, you’re inviting him over. We can afford to help someone out if they’re struggling to pick themselves up.” Phil said, moving to the kitchen to start dinner, deciding to leave whatever that was alone for the time being.

Both boys mumbled something about ‘that’s not how bets work’.

*****

Tommy walked back into his alley and took off his cloak, rummaging through the pockets.

He smiled at the handful of coins he nicked from that same tall guy and frowned slightly when he noticed a piece of paper in his pocket.

_House in the clearing in the woods, outside the walls. If you ever need some help._

He shook his head at the loopy handwriting.

*****

Wilbur stuck his hand in his pocket immediately after bumping into a guy in a brown cloak. A few coins were gone but that was alright. He pulled out a piece of paper.

It was his note from yesterday. He drew his eyebrows together and flipped it over, where there was some scrappy handwriting.

_No._

*****

The three of them stared at the small piece of paper in the center of the table.

_No._

Phil sighed. “This tells us nothing.”

“He’s literate.” Techno offered.

Wilbur nodded and pointed at Techno. “That’s something.”

Phil leaned back in his chair. “Alright. We have a literate pickpocket who wears a brown cloak and steals from Wil because it’s fun.”

The two boys nodded. “We could try another message.” Wilbur offered.

They all looked at each other.

*****

_Why won’t you let us help you?_

_No._

_Can you at least tell us your name?_

*****

They didn’t get a response to their last one.

They sat at the table, two of three pieces of paper in the center. 

“We could try catching him.” Techno said.

Wilbur shook his head and flipped a coin in his hand. “If we do that, then he won’t even pickpocket me anymore. We can’t scare him off.”

Phil chuckled. “He’s like a dog we’re trying to coax out from under the house.”

They still went into the village together two days later. 

They scanned the crowds as they walked, but they saw no guy in a brown cloak. 

Right around afternoon, they sat in a small restaurant and waited for their food. Wilbur sighed and stuck his hands in his pocket. He froze.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked.

Wilbur pulled his hands out of his pockets and put a small piece of paper on the table. He rummaged through his pockets while Phil and Techno looked at the paper. It was definitely the note they never got back.

_Screw off._

“I’m missing three coins.” Wilbur said, smiling.

“I don’t see why you’d be happy about that.” Techno responded, looking up.

“Because,” Wil said, dragging the paper over to read it for himself, “it means that this game is about to get a lot more interesting.”

Phil shook his head and chuckled. “You’re insane.”

*****

They left the village two hours before sunset, and this time, Wilbur did notice the thief. He tried to subtly hint it to his family, but neither of them noticed.

They did notice, but a little too late when the guy rammed their shoulders together. Luckily, Wilbur was on high alert, and felt the hand slip into his pocket. He reached in and tried to stop the thief. Their hand retracted quickly, but not before Wilbur had nicked something. The guy was gone when Wilbur turned around.

Phil and Techno looked at him. “What’s the damage?” Phil asked.

Wilbur shook his head and pulled his hand out his pocket. “I managed to stop him from getting any coins, and I grabbed something else.” He held out his hand to show them a thick silver ring covered in small scratches.

“Did you just steal a wedding ring?” Techno asked.

They all looked at it for a second. 

“Frick.” 

*****

A piece of paper showed up in his pocket the very next day, within thirty minutes of him stepping into the village.

_Give it back_

Wilbur scrawled on the back of the paper and slipped it into the thief’s pocket the next time they passed each other.

_Why_

_Because_

_Why_

_Just give it back_

Phil joined him that afternoon, and they met up in a restaurant by the plaza. He showed Phil the scraps of paper.

“What if we tell him that we’ll give it back if he accepts our help?” Phil said.

“That might just work.” Wilbur nodded and ripped a piece of paper out of the notebook he’d been carrying the whole day, scrawling something on it.

He set it on the side of the table that he and Phil were sitting at.

“Now,” said Phil, trying to steer the conversation away from thieves, “tell me about that song you’ve been writing.”

They were so lost in conversation that they didn’t notice the cloaked figure walk by the table, or the hand that stuck out and grabbed the small note.

*****

“Where did it go?” Wilbur asked, looking around the table. Phil shrugged. Wilbur sighed and tore out a new piece of paper, rewriting the note.

*****

They were walking out of the village when Phil nudged his shoulder. Wilbur looked at him, and Phil motioned with a head tilt toward a nearby building. Wilbur looked that way. A cloaked figure leaned against the side of a building, looking at him.

Wilbur started walking towards him but someone bumped into him on his way over. He said sorry to the woman and looked back to the building. He was gone.

He speedily walked to the building, looking around. Phil was at his side a second later.

“I don’t know where he went.” 

Phil bent down and picked something up off the ground. He flipped it over a few times in his hands before handing it to Wilbur.

It was the piece of paper they lost.

_We want to help you_

Familiar handwriting was scrawled on the back.

_I just want the ring back_

*****

_You have to come get it_

_Where_

_Outside the town walls. There’s a path in the forest that leads to a house in a clearing_

_Why can’t you just give it to me_

_Answer me_

_Come to the forest_

*****

Wilbur was upstairs in his room and Phil was out fishing in the pond. Techno was on the couch, reading, which automatically made him the one who had to answer the knock at the door.

He placed a bookmark in between the pages of the book and got up, stretching as he walked over to the door.

He opened it and was met with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a steely gaze.

“I’m here for my ring.” The kid said, crossing his arms. He wore a red beanie, which went well with his red and white shirt. His brown cloak was clipped around his shoulders.

Techno froze. This-this wasn’t what he had been expecting. “Um, yeah, yeah, hold on.” He opened the door all the way and started walking upstairs. He spared one last glance over his shoulder at the kid leaning in the doorway.

He walked up the stairs and up to Wilbur’s door. He could hear the faint sounds of a guitar strumming behind it. He knocked on the door. “Come in.” Wilbur said a second later.

He opened the door and stood in the doorway. “Um, the, the guy’s here.” Before he could get another word out, Wilbur threw his guitar on the bed, stood up, and was running out into the hall, swiping sometime off the dresser as he went. Techno turned around, speed walking after his brother. “Wilbur, Wilbur, listen to me.” Wilbur just ran down the stairs, jumping over the last two steps. “Wilbur it’s a-”

“A kid.” Wilbur said quietly, staring in the direction of the door. Techno joined him at the base of the stairs, where they stood in silence. “Hello.” Wilbur finally said.

The kid pushed his shoulder off the door frame. “Where’s my ring?”

Wilbur walked to the door, stopping within a few feet to toss the ring to him. The kid caught it and inspected it in his hand before slipping it on his finger.

“Thanks.” He tapped his chest. And then he turned around and started walking away.

“Wait!” Wilbur said, rushing out the door. Techno took his place by the door. “Where’d you learn to steal?” He called out to the kid.

“Experience!”

Techno shook his head. “You’re not asking the important questions, Wil.” He said, and then cupping his hands around his mouth, “Are you in a gang?!” The kid flipped him off over his shoulder. “I think he's in a gang.”

Wilbur turned on his heel to look at him. “He technically didn’t respond.”

Of course, this was the moment Phil decided to come out around from the back of the house. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Everyone stopped, and Wilbur and Techno slowly turned to face their father.

*****

Tommy stopped walking when he heard someone else. He got his ring, he should be leaving. He could leave now. He’d go back to his alley, hide away there for a few more days, never interact with these people again, and skip town.

‘I can leave’ He thought as he turned around. Someone stood by the house. He was the older man who he saw sometimes with Tall Guy and Cloak Dude (and boy, had there been a surprise. Weird Cloak had _pink hair_. And _red eyes_. It had taken all of Tommy’s self control not to stare). Instead of his normal green getup, he was wearing leather pants and a loose white shirt. He held a fishing rod, but no bucket, which was a little odd.

“Well?” He said again. 

Tall Guy pointed at Tommy. “That’s the thief.”

With no thought, he yelled back, “You’re a thief too, bozo!”

Tall Guy spun to look at him. “Rat!”

“Hoe!”

“Idiot!”

“Stop!” Old Man shouted, stepping forward and spreading both his _wings_ out to the side. Tommy gaped at the _literal wings the man had on his back_. Old Man looked at Tommy, and back to the other two. “Did you at least talk to him?”

Tall Guy nodded. “Yeah. He called me a thief.”

“And a hoe.” Pink Hair added.

Tall Guy nodded. “And a hoe.”

Old Guy raised an eyebrow. “What’s his name?”

Pink Hair turned to him. “What’s your name?”

Tommy gaped. “He has wings.”

Pink Hair nodded. “Yes.” 

Old Guy sighed and looked at Tommy. “I’m sorry about this, kid. How about we all sit down and I can explain everything?”

He looked over his shoulder, into the forest. He could leave. He looked back over to the three strange people all looking at him. 

And he nodded.

*****

He sat at a wooden table in the house, facing Tall Guy, who sat with his elbows propped on the table, hands folded and laying on the table. He was leaning on his arms, narrowing his eyes at Tommy, who sat across from him, reclined in his chair, arms crossed. He matched Tall Guy’s glare.

Old Man and Pink Hair sat at the other end of the table, Old Man glancing at them worriedly, Pink Hair looking far too casual for this situation.

Tall Guy took a breath. “Name.”

“Yours first.” Tommy said.

“Wilbur.”

“Tommy.” He said cautiously. 

Old Man smiled. “Phil.”

“Techno.” Pink Hair said.

“Stop talking. This is my investigation.” Wilbur said, glaring at Phil with no real malice. The older man rolled his eyes. Wilbur went back to glaring at Tommy. “Where do you live?”

“In the village.”

“Alleyway then.” Tommy huffed. Wilbur ignored it. “Any family?”

“You got a family?”

“Yeah, they’re right here.” Wilbur said, tilting his head toward the other two.

“There’s no way any of you are related.” Tommy said, looking between them all skeptically.

“Me and Tech were adopted.” Wilbur said, shrugging. “Now, we have a very important question that you must answer.” Techno nodded and Phil glanced worryingly between everyone at the table. Wilbur took a deep breath. “Are you in a gang?”

“Wha-. No. No. I’m not in a gang.” He said, uncrossing his arms to wave his hands in front of him. “I am not in a gang.”

Wilbur leaned back in his chair, cheering. Phil sighed and rubbed his temples. Wilbur pointed at Techno. “You owe me ten bucks!” 

Techno turned very slowly to Tommy. “Why aren’t you in a gang? You could be in a gang. Why aren’t you in a gang?” He looked back at Wilbur, sending him a deadly glare.

“Please let up on him.” Phil groaned. He looked back up. “How old are you, Tommy?”

“Thirteen.” Tommy replied quietly, as he lost all sensible grip on reality. He kept glancing between Wilbur and Techno.

Techno looked back at him. “Even worse! What homeless thirteen year old wouldn’t want to be in a gang!”

“Stop asking him if he’s in a gang!” Phil said, slamming his palms face down on the table.

“I beat Techno in a bet!” Wilbur cheered.

Techno sighed. “It was a stupid question anyway. The only gang is three towns away, and they got caught and disbanded almost a year ago by a rival gang.”

“Caught? By a rival gang?” Wilbur asked. Tommy tensed in his chair.

“Yeah. Rival gang was actually a group of politicians and others. So they had control over the police, who caught them, and they disbanded. Heard the leader was a nice enough guy but he’s still an ex-gang leader so how nice coul-”

“Don’t talk about Niks that way.” Tommy spat out before he could stop himself. 

Everyone looked at him. 

“What did you say?” Wilbur asked, using a voice quieter than the one he’d been using the whole afternoon.

Tommy glared at Wilbur and Techno. “I said, don’t talk about Niks that way.”

“How do you know who Niks is?” Wilbur asked.

Tommy abruptly stood up. “Well, this has been a nice chat. I think I’ll be going now.” He grabbed his cloak from the back of his chair and walked to the door. Three chairs squeaked against the wooden floor behind him. He walked out the door and slammed it behind him, jumping down the steps. The door opened and closed behind him.

“Tommy!” He turned around. Phil was standing on the porch, hand on the doorknob. “I’m really sorry about them.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. I understand. You wouldn’t want to be associated with a thief.” He turned back around and started walking off again.

“Well, that would be quite hypocritical of us.”

Tommy whipped around to face Phil. “What.”

Phil smiled and took his hand off the door, instead walking over to the porch railing and leaning on it. He titled his head to the side and Tommy started walking back to the porch to join him. “Well, both my sons were adopted, as Wilbur mentioned. I found Techno when he was seven and I found Wilbur when he was thirteen. Techno was caught between a rock and a hard place and Wilbur was a thief.” Tommy leaned against the porch railing, a foot away from Phil. “Wilbur stole from people and stowed away on wagon trains to get to other towns.” Tommy looked into the flower bed below the porch, turning this new information over in his mind.

“It’s not that we don’t want to be associated with thieves. They’re not even trying to ridicule you. If anything, they’re happy you’re a thief or ex-gang member. Once they get a stupid idea into their head, they can’t let it go until they’re satisfied.”

“So I’m the stupid idea?” Tommy asked.

Phil laughed. “You could put it that way. My best guess is that Wilbur sees himself in you and wants to help you out. We all do. No kid should be out on the streets by themselves.” He shifted a bit, his wings moving behind him. Tommy lifted his head up to look at them, fascinated. “So how about I give you a choice? You can stay here with us and do some work around the farm to earn enough money to support yourself well enough. You can leave whenever you want, we won’t stop you. Or, you can leave now. We wouldn’t go looking after you and we wouldn’t try to make you stay.”

Tommy nodded and looked back down into the flower bed. “What if I choose the first option?”

“Well, we have an extra room upstairs that’s mostly empty. It’ll only take us a day or two to clear out what is in there, and you can stay there until you decide to leave. We’ll give you a few chores to do each day and when you’re done with those, you can do whatever you want, really. We’ll give you food in return for your help as well.”

“And the second?”

Phil shrugged. “While we wouldn’t prefer it, we’d respect your decision and let you go. We wouldn’t bother you anymore, either.”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, Tommy mulling over the proffer in his head.

“Anything to say?” Phil finally asked.

Tommy sighed and stood up straight, stretching his arms behind his back. “Yeah. Your daisies look terrible.”

Phil sighed and looked down into the flower beds, at the half dead flowers. “Yeah. I know.” He stood up and motioned for Tommy to follow him. “Come on. Techno’s generally a good cook but Wilbur will burn down the house if we stay out here for too long.”

*****

The upstairs room was cleared out within two days, just like Phil had said. Furniture was moved in, and it became Tommy’s room.

He got up every morning before anyone else and went outside, where he sat on the porch until someone, usually Phil, opened the door and called him in for breakfast. He ate breakfast with Phil until Wilbur came charging down the stairs, Techno right behind him. They ate and then Phil gave him a few chores to do, which usually didn’t take that long. He would work until Wilbur called him in for lunch, he’d eat with them, and go finish his work. 

Then, he’d do nothing. Sometimes when he was done, he’d go to the pond behind the house and dip his feet in or climb one of the nearby trees, to see how high he could go. He’d do whatever until he was called in for dinner and then he’d do whatever (but inside the house) until he went to bed.

The first day he’d climbed one of the trees by the pond had been very fun. There were a few different trees around the pond, including a tall, sturdy oak. He kicked his shoes off by the base of the tree, and hoisted himself onto the lowest branch. From there, he slowly made his way up through the branches until he was almost at the top. Above that, the branches were too small for him to climb up any further.

He stayed up there for probably an hour before Wilbur came into the little area.

“Tommy! Dinner!” Wilbur looked around the clearing for a minute, looking for him. “Tommy?” Tommy smiled, watching from his perch as the older teenager became increasingly frazzled, looking for him. “Tommy?” He looked around for another minute, then left.

Tommy frowned. Was he just going to give up that easily? He sighed and started climbing down the tree. He only made it a few branches down when Wilbur came back into the clearing. “I’m telling you, Tech, he was right here.” Tommy sat up and looked over.

Techno came up behind Wilbur and started looking around. “You sure? Because he’s not here.”

“Yes, I’m sure. That’s why I got you. I can’t find him.”

Techno shook his head. “Start looking around. He probably just wandered too far off.”

They went around the pond, looking for him and calling out every now and then. He climbed further down the tree, until he was sitting sideways on one of the lower branches, his back facing the two. Luckily, the foliage was thick enough to hide him.

Wilbur came close to the tree, right in front of his branch. “Tommy!” Tommy hooked his knees around the branch and tilted back, hanging upside down, facing Wilbur.

“Yeah?”

Wilbur _shrieked_. He stumbled back and Tommy dissolved into cackles. He was cut off by something hitting his stomach, pulling him out of the tree. He opened his eyes and saw Wilbur, who was laughing at him, slung over Techno’s shoulder. He hit his fists against Techno’s back playfully.

“Let me go!”

Techno shook his head and started walking toward the house. “No. Bad gremlin children must be punished. Grab his shoes, Wil.”

Tommy huffed, fighting the oncoming smile.

*****

One day he finished his chores and was walking up to the house when he spotted the pitiful flower box, full of dying daisies and weeds.

He looked at it for a solid minute before sighing. He walked over to it and dropped to his knees. His gloves were still hidden in his old alley in the village, but that was fine.

He grabbed a weed and pulled. It came up easily enough. He tossed it to the side and grabbed another one.

*****

Phil walked outside. Usually by this time, Tommy would be done and check in with Phil to tell him such. He walked outside and before he even closed the door, he spotted a head of blond hair under the railing. He walked over and peaked over the railing. Tommy was digging through the flower box, a small pile of weeds beside him.

Phil smiled. “We have tools, you know.”

Tommy looked up. “That’d be great.”

Phil shook his head, walking back into the house to grab some gardening gloves and a trowel. He came back out a minute later, walking down the steps and crouching next to Tommy. He handed the kid the gloves and Tommy slipped them on.

“So what are you doing?”

“Fixing your sad excuse for a garden.” Tommy said, pulling the second glove tight and resuming his weed pulling rhythm. 

Phil hummed. “And what would you be comparing it to?”

Tommy smiled. “My old one.”

“You had a garden?”

“Yep.” Tommy said, looking over the weed free flower box. “Had to leave it behind though. Flowers are probably long dead now.” He grabbed the metal trowel and started carefully digging around one of the daisies. 

“Well I bet it looked nice. You look like you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.” He nodded, pulling the daisy up and looking at the roots.

“What are you looking at?”

Tommy shook his head and carefully put the daisy to the side, filling in the whole and digging a new one. “Looking for root rot.”

Phil nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He stood up and walked back into the house, sparing one last look over his shoulder.

Tommy carefully dug new holes for all the daisies, checking each of them for disease for infection before replanting them.

Phil smiled and his heart swelled at seeing the kid so happy, even if he wouldn’t admit or show it.

*****

Tommy seemed to fit into their little family dynamic effortlessly. Conversations were natural, Techno took no time at all to start talking to him, and Wilbur and Tommy got on like a house on fire. He was really fitting in.

Which made this situation all the odder.

They had all gone into the village (after both Wil and Tommy had sworn up and down not to steal anything) and Phil had instructed them to walk around and do whatever while he went to Sam’s shop for a small visit. He’d already been gone three weeks and he was scared that his friends were getting suspicious and would start thinking that he adopted another kid (he _hadn’t_ ).

So, he visited Sam, bought a few gardening supplies for Tommy, and then went to go find his ~~three~~ two sons and Tommy.

What he found was a panicking Wilbur, a distressed Techno, and no Tommy. 

“Where’s Tommy?” He asked once he had taken in the situation.

Wilbur gave him a very strained smile and started waving his hands in front of him. “Well, Dad, you see, well it’s a bit of a funny story, because, well-”

“We don’t know.” Techno cut him off.

Wilbur nodded. “We were walking around, looking at shops, and then he just,” he mimicked something exploding with his hands, “poof. We look at him and he’s just gone.”

“Tommy’s gone.” Phil said.

“Tommy’s gone.” Wilbur repeated.

They all stood in silence for a moment.

“We’re looking for him, aren’t we?” Techno asked.

Phil nodded. “Of course. Wil.” Wilbur looked at him. “Where would he be?”

Wilbur put his head in his hands, running one of them through his hair. “Ok, let’s see. Moon Way has some good alleys with general weather protection, Copper Lane has one or two good nooks, and Summit Row is like a gold mine. He’s most likely there.”

Phil nodded. “We’ll all go there first, no splitting up.” Both boys nodded and they all started towards Summit Row. It wasn’t a nice street in terms of general decenity, but Wilbur was right in that it did have a lot of alleys.

They were speed walking through the street, branching off every now and then to look somewhere, when Wilbur took a turn into an alley and promptly shouted, “Found him!”

Techno and Phil ran towards where Wilbur was. They rounded the corner into the space between two buildings and saw Wilbur holding Tommy in a hug so tight it looked like Tommy was suffocating against Wilbur’s chest. Techno ran ahead of Phil and tore Tommy away from Wilbur, looking at him for a second to make sure he was alright before wrapping him in another hug. Tommy looked stunned.

Phil caught up pretty quickly and Techno let go of him, letting Phil wrap Tommy in a third hug, his wings coming out of his cloak to wrap around Tommy as well. He set his chin on the top of Tommy’s head, pressing his mouth into his hair. “Don’t scare us like that.” He pulled back, grabbing Tommy’s chin and pushing his head from side to side, looking for any injuries. “Is everything ok? Are you hurt?”

Tommy looked confused. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He pulled away from Phil, and Wilbur grabbed him, hugging him again.

“Why did you run off?” Wilbur asked. 

Tommy said something but it was muffled by Wilbur smothering him. Wilbur let go, but kept both his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “I had to grab some stuff.”

Phil just noticed the small leather bag on the ground. Wilbur and Techno looked at the bag as well. Wilbur sighed and looked back at Tommy. “Ok, just please tell us next time. We thought you got hurt or something.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I was on my way back anyway.” Wilbur nodded and let Tommy go, who picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He looked to Phil. “So, are we going home now?”

He smiled. “Yeah, let’s get going.” Phil led his three sons out the alley and they all made their way back to the forest.

*****

“Why do I have to do this?” Tommy asked, kicking a stone on the path.

“It’s a right of passage, Toms.” Wilbur answered, slinging an arm around Tommy’s shoulders. “It’s like an induction ceremony.”

“Besides, watching Phil get chewed out is really funny.” Techno said. Phil huffed from where he was beside Techno.

Tommy sighed. “But I’ve already done an induction ceremony!” He whined.

Wilbur looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

Tommy reached up and pulled the collar of his shirt down just enough to show his tattoo. “I got it from the Jadebreakers. That was their induction ceremony.” He let go of his collar and his tattoo was hidden again.

Wilbur stared at him. “You have a tattoo.” He nodded. Wilbur took his arm off his shoulders, huffed, and looked at Phil. “Dad, why don’t I have a tattoo?”’

Tommy snickered as Phil replied exasperatedly, “You’re not in a gang, Wil.”

“I don’t know. This family sure does feel like a gang.” Techno offered.

“We’re not a gang.” Phil quickly corrected.

“I don’t know, Dad.” Tommy said without really thinking, tapping his chin. He didn’t see Phil’s eyes go wide or the grins Techno and Wilbur shot him. “Two thieves, a brawler, and an old man controlling it all. Sounds like a stereotypical mob to me.”

“We’re not a gang, end of discussion.” Phil said. “Besides, we’re here.” They came upon a nice little house with a side yard. Tommy liked all the flowers. They looked well cared for.

Phil walked up to the door and knocked. A second later, a man with blond hair opened it, smiling. “Hey Phil! What’s all this about?”

Wilbur came up behind Tommy and wrapped his arms around his chest, lifting him up into the air. “We got another one, Mr. Nihachu!”

“Let me go!” Tommy said, trying in vain to kick Wilbur.

The man in the doorway looked at him with wide eyes for a moment, before sighing and looking at Phil. “How?”

Phil held his hands up in front of him. “I can explain.”

*****

Tommy sat in the yard with Wil, Tech, and a girl named Niki. As soon as he had stepped foot into the house, Wilbur and Techno had pushed him into the backyard, a girl rushing out the door behind them a minute later.

Techno grabbed the braid sitting on his shoulder and took out the elastic holding it together, running his fingers through the braid to undo it. Niki turned to Tommy. “Do you know how to braid?”

“No.” He said, looking between everyone. Wilbur sat next to him, strumming a guitar Niki had handed him earlier.

She smiled sweetly. “Great! I can teach you!”

*****

Tommy carefully followed the steps Niki gave him, messily braiding Techno’s hair. 

The soft guitar mixed in with the distant sound of laughter coming from inside the house.

It wasn’t as permanent as a tattoo, but maybe it was better, Tommy thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I didn't make it clear: Niks traded the locket for Tommy's freedom
> 
> Quick thanks to my best friend because I asked for help on developing the plot and instead of that we got side tracked and came up with an enemies to lovers story centering around two rival gangs, one, an Italian gang with one British person, and the other, a British gang with one Italian person. I don't know how we did it.
> 
> And as always, thanks to everyone reading this for the kudos and comments and even just making it this far into the story! Thank you all so much!!


	5. Soldier, Poet, King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every story has an end, but that doesn't mean it's the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so for the other chapters, you didn't need to listen to the songs but for this one, you really do need to hear it to understand the pacing. Plus, it just makes it better. Here's a link: [Soldier, Poet, King](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1z8zZBBkIRw)

Phil doesn’t remember where he heard about it, but somehow, he found out about a brand new server where any land you choose would be yours, as long as you had the power to claim it.

Six months later, he and his family stood in front of their house and said goodbye to it, pulling out their communicators and typing in the IP address for SMP Earth.

*****

Tommy stands on the wooden bar of a tavern, holding up his glass of (ginger) ale as the people packed under him sing to a familiar tune. The windows on the walls are coated in a thick frost, snow building up in small piles where the panes meet the frame. The door is locked tight against the biting cold of the Antarctic Empire.

Tommy motions with his glass to the band on the small stage, ale sloshing out of his mug with the motion. The band happily starts the beat up again, instrumental voices harmonizing together perfectly, the sound swelling and spinning around the tavern, echos lingering in the high roof and around the beams where twinkling chandeliers hang. 

When it’s time for the lyrics, Tommy holds his cup out to the crowd, starting the song over again with a loud but melodious voice, “There will come a soldier,”

The crowd joins in with very little prompting.

*****

**There will come a soldier  
Who carries a mighty sword  
He will tear your city down, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord**

*****

“Tech, I wrote you a song.” Wilbur says, sitting on the floor of Techno’s room as Techno stands hunched over his desk, reviewing maps, plans, and statistics. He’s holding his guitar and strumming a few light tunes, waiting for his brother’s response.

Techno sighs and looks out one of the windows of his room, at the late night sky. It’s covered in small and large stars, and he can name three constellations off the top of his head, spotting each in turn. “Yes, Wil?”

Wilbur shifts on the carpet and plays a few loud chords in quick succession, stopping suddenly to say “Go to sleep,” completely monotone.

“Great song Wil.”

Wilbur huffs and starts strumming the first few chords to a song he plays often. By and By, if Techno remembers correctly. “Thank you. Do you understand the underlying theme and symbolism?”

Techno shakes his head, scratching a note down on the side of the map he’s looking at. “I don’t think so. It’s so intricately woven into the song that trying to isolate it would make the whole thing collapse. It’s a load bearing theme.”

Wilbur groans, not missing a beat in his strumming. “Here, I’ll make it easy for you.” He stops the song he’s in the middle of and dramatically strikes one chord. “Go to sleep, Techno. It’s midnight and you’ve been up since five thirty this morning.”

Techno shakes his head. “Darn. That’s a good theme. Too bad it doesn't pertain to my life in any way.”

Wilbur sighs and picks By and By back up, right where he left off. “Seriously, though. You need to go to sleep.”

“After I finish reading this report. It came in four hours ago and I’ve been putting it off for too long.” He sets his pencil aside and picks up three pieces of paper, turning around and holding them up for his older brother to see.

“Don’t make me pull out the big guns, Tech. You know I will.” Wilbur responds, voice grave. He stares down Techno as he flips through the report.

“I have no clue what you could be talking about.” Techno says, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.

Wilbur sets his guitar down and stands up, stretching. “Stay here.” He leaves the room and Techno sits down at his desk, writing the most important parts of the report in a notebook that’s half hanging off the side of his desk. He’s on the second page of six when he hears Wilbur come back. “I’m back.”

“I could tell.” Techno says, trying to ignore what he knows is going to happen.

A second later, the door to his room opens and closes again. “Alright, what’s this?” Tommy asks. Techno swivels his chair around to look at his brothers.

“Techno’s pulling another all-nighter so he can finish doing diplomatic things.” Wilbur says, sitting down on the floor again and picking his guitar back up.

“You're the diplomatic one.” Techno corrects, “I just make sure the army is doing its job.”

He’s ignored. “Well yeah, he’s a workaholic.” Tommy says to Wilbur, responding to his previous statement. Wilbur nods. Tommy moves to go sit on the bed and turns to Techno, pointing at the spot in front of him. “Sit.” Techno sighs and stands up, resigning himself to his fate. He brings the battle report with him and reads it as he sits on his bed with his back to Tommy. Tommy reaches over his shoulder and plucks the document out of his hands, handing it down to Wil. “No working. Tell us about your day.”

“I woke up.” Techno starts. He feels Tommy undo his braid, which can barely be classified as such anymore. It’s more like a few strands of hair tangled together and held loosely in place with an elastic by this point in the day. “I went down to the stables and did some stable work. I brushed and fed Rocket and did some other stuff before coming to eat breakfast with you two and Dad.” Tommy braids his hair as he talks, combing through the tangles with his fingers.

Wilbur plays a soft lullaby and Techno feels his eyes start to close. He opens them wide, stubbornly refusing to fall for this same routine again. “And what did you do for the rest of the day?” Wilbur asks.

Techno mulls over the question for a minute. “Reviewed reports, looked at the crop yield this season for wheat, planned another attack on the northeastern front-”

“Work.” Tommy cuts him off. “You’ve done work all day.”

“It’s my job.” He says, fighting off the drowsy feeling coming with Wilbur’s soft music and Tommy running his hands through his hair.

“It’s also your job to take breaks so you don’t get overworked.” Wilbur says, standing up and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Techno says, rubbing his eyes. “I’m not overworkin’ myself, I promise. I’m just plannin’ for the future. I’m just doin’ my job.” He yawns. Tommy ties off the end of the new braid and shifts to Techno’s side, putting his head on his older brother's shoulder once he’s there.

“Mhm.” Wilbur nods, noting the way Techno starts clipping the ends of his present participles, a habit that he could never shake, always coming out when he was tired, stressed, or unfocused.

“So you’re not tired?” Tommy asks.

“No.” Techno says quietly, head leaning against Tommy’s and his eyes closed.

He’s asleep within another five minutes.

*****

Technoblade isn’t a soldier. He’s a warrior.

He wears the blood of his enemies like it’s the crown that sits on his head whenever he returns home. He holds his head high as he walks towards armies, letting his head bounce slightly with the weight of his skull mask and letting his feet hit the ground to the tune of whatever song Wilbur had gotten stuck in his head. He falls upon armies, cape billowing behind him and sword heavy in his hand, though he wields it as if it were to weigh nothing. He cuts through ranks with deadly precision and accuracy, his shot just as deadly as his slice. He’s followed everywhere he goes by a disembodied choir, heralding the blood and destruction that come to those who oppose him, always rising to a chant that only he can hear.

He is Technoblade, the warrior to be feared by all bearing ill intentions towards him or those he holds dear.

But he’s not Technoblade when he comes home from wars. He’s not the blood god when he goes back to his family after a long day of war meetings. He’s just Techno. He’s the middle child who holes himself up in the library for hours at a time, next in line for the throne despite having an older sibling. He’s the older brother who will fall on the couch, right on top of Tommy, ignoring the playful screams of his younger brother as he leans more of his weight onto him. He’s Phil’s shy kid, who won’t speak or laugh near anyone who he hasn’t known for at least two weeks, playing it off every time as an egotistical confidence. 

He’s the twenty-one year old with control over all the army regiments in the Empire, despite multiple advisors warning Phil against giving him the battle plans and war reports as soon as they come in. Phil doesn’t listen to any of them, of course.

He’s the brother of two loveable idiots and the son of a chaotic but softhearted man.

He’s the crown prince and the head of the army of the largest and most powerful Empire on Earth SMP. He’s the man on the front lines of battles, fighting amongst the men he controls, and against the enemies who dare threaten the peace he and his family have worked so hard to achieve.

He is Technoblade, and he would decimate countries for his family.

*****

**Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord  
He will tear your city down, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord**

*****

Tommy does a few simple dance steps on the bar, his brown cloak swishing around him with every movement he makes. 

The tavern dances with him. At some point in the first verse, the crowd had moved to the sides of the room to make a small dance floor in the center, where people currently dance to the upbeat tune. Everyone has a partner, and each of them had a hand held up between them, laying their hand flat against their partner’s, slowly stepping around each other during the lulls in the rhythm and twisting and turning rapidly when the tempo picks up. With every fast twist and spin, the dance floor shifts, a new pair of dancing mates circling each other during each new diminuendo. 

Tommy laughs, holding up his half full glass to the dancers. The people lining the walls do the same, everyone cheering and singing the last lines of the first verse over and over.

The band hits a series of new notes and Tommy twirls expertly on the wooden countertop, stopping when it’s time for the lyrics to come in.

“There will come a poet!” He shouts out into the crowd, one hand cupped over his mouth, not even trying to match the melody.

They loudly harmonize their response, getting louder with each note, but still keeping the beat.

*****

**There will come a poet  
Whose weapon is His word  
He will slay you with His tongue, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord**

*****

Wilbur sighs and slumps farther down into his chair at the table. Phil glances at him from his place at his side. He smiles fondly at his oldest son and pokes him in the ribs. “Sit up, Wil. This won’t be too bad.”

Wilbur sits up in his chair, holding back the laugh coming from his father poking him in the stomach. “But Phil,” he whines, dragging the name out, “it’s a _meeting_. A _political meeting_.”

Phil shakes his head. “Come on Wil. It isn’t too bad. You don’t even have to do anything.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes and slumps back into his seat. “Fine.”

After a few more minutes of banter, a guard walks into the meeting room and informs them that the nobles from the other nation have arrived. Phil tells him to bring them in and Wilbur finally sits up in his chair, straightening the gold circlet on his head. A minute later, a few nobles walk into the room. Leading the group is the king, a thin, weasley man with a too large cloak on his shoulders and a golden crown sitting on his head, jewels covering much of it, a far contrast from the simple black crown on Phil’s head. Wilbur narrows his eyes at him.

The man and the four people following him, also covered in furs and jewels, sit at the table, across from Phil and Wilbur. Phil calls to a servant, who brings over a few maps and a box of tacks and colored pencils.

Once everything is set up, they launch into the pleasantries that make Wilbur want to gag. “Hello, King Tybalt. It is an honor to have you here.” Phil starts off, dipping his head to the king.

The man gives him a wry smile. “Please, the pleasure is all mine. This is Duke Ridro, Duke Tuffit, Marquiess Penchell, and Earl Eston.” With each name, he gestures to one of men surrounding him, each of them dipping their head in turn with being introduced. “And who might this be?” He asks, motioning to Wilbur.

“This is prince Wilbur, my oldest son.” Phil says, pride radiating off him in waves.

“Is he not the crown prince?” One of the dukes asks.

Phil shakes his head. “Unlike other regions, we do not determine future nobility by birth order. Technoblade is my middle child and the crown prince of the empire.”

The king scrunches his nose. Wilbur notices the tension in his shoulders at the mention of his brother. “The general? Wouldn’t he be,” he pauses, looking for an acceptable word to use, “unfit to rule?”

Unfortunately for him, Wilbur decides that that word was not the word he was looking for. “If it is my place to say,” he says, knowing full well that it isn’t. A side glance from Phil only confirms that point, “out of all the royal blood in the castle, Techno is the most fit to rule. His knowledge of battles, plans, and past historical conflicts make him an aware and adaptive man, and his care for the general populous will make him a great leader when the time comes.”

Tybalt hesitantly nods, and Phil beams, folding his hands on the table. He stretches his wings out the slightest bit behind him, which Wilbur has always liked. It makes him look more intimidating, more kingly. “Well now that we’ve covered that, shall we continue with plans for future trade routes?”

King Tybalt nods. Wilbur doesn’t miss the relief that flashes through the eyes of the king of Oglil.

An hour after the meeting ends, Wilbur calls an impromptu meeting between him, Phil, and Techno, laying out the maps from the meeting as they sit around the library’s largest table. 

“If we’re going to make the best of this opportunity, we need to do it quickly.” He says, getting odd looks from his family. 

“Huh?” Techno says.

Wilbur places his finger on the map, outlining the trade route that Phil had just secured an hour earlier, with little hassle. “Their nation is collapsing under their feet. The people are in an uproar. They need these trade routes.”

Phil holds his chin in his hand. “I thought something was going on, but I wasn’t quite sure. What are you suggesting we do about it?”

Wilbur smiles. “We fund a revolution and help overthrow the monarchy. We put the power in the hands of the people in exchange for some of the power that we then use to expand our own land. Since we funded the revolution, we’ll also be able to easily secure an alliance.”

The two other men at the table smile.

*****

Wilbur is more than a poet. He’s a master of music and rhymes, lyrics and poems. He’s incredibly skilled with the guitar, and a geography wizz. 

But he’s got another talent that no one sees on the surface. The same skill that allows him to rile up audiences with his songs allows him to twist his words around, making those same crowds do whatever he wants them to. His skills with a map have allowed him to draw and erase, draw and erase nation’s borders, expanding his own and shrinking others. He can spin any document into whatever he wants it to be, weaving his words into an elegant tapestry. His knowledge of other nations will help him ineffably when he eventually starts going into construction, building vital bridges for nations to use, funneling all the information he learns right back into his family’s own empire.

And one day, he might make his own country, his own fame. He’ll fight tooth and nail for what he believes in and he’ll use every tool in his arsenal to keep it safe. Maybe he’ll give it big black walls like the ones in the village near Phil’s old house. He always liked those walls.

He is Wilbur Soot, the poet. The musician. The diplomat.

But when the meetings are over and he’s laying on a couch in the palace’s large living room, Tommy laying on the floor, Phil sitting in an armchair reviewing documents, and Techno reading some book on another chair, he’s not Wilbur Soot, master musician and revolutionary. He’s Wil. He’s the older brother of two gremlins and the son of the nicest man to ever walk the server. He’s the man who badly plays the guitar while screeching insults, pretending it’s a song, because he knows how to get a rise out of Tommy. He’s the dirty crime boy who pickpockets his brothers and father whenever they pass him in the hall, enjoying the surprise on Techno and Phil’s faces when he empties his pockets at the dinner table. 

He is Wilbur Soot, and he would stir a thousand hearts and turn them all to rebellion and revolution for his family.

*****

**Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord  
He will slay you with His tongue, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord**

*****

Tommy drinks the last dregs of the sugary drink in his mug before handing it off to a bartender behind him. While he waits for the drink to come back, he looks out over the dancing crowd as they sing the last lines of the second verse.

He always thought there should be another verse right between the second and the third. Soldier, Poet, His Verse, King. He could never figure out what it should be, though, only what he wanted it to feel like. He shakes his head. Writing music was always Wilbur’s thing, not his.

He gets his drink back from the bartender and turns back to the crowd, watching them dance.

*****

Tommy is the only prince of the Antarctic Empire that doesn’t openly bask in the limelight. Wilbur has his music, poems, and the alliances he secures with nations through flattery and careful word choice. Techno has his battles, his plans, and a razor sharp mind to go with it. They’re both known across the empire for the things they do for it.

The third prince, though, is not.

Everyone knows Phil has three sons. Everyone knows two of them. Wilbur and Techno are household names. Tommy is not.

And surprisingly enough, Tommy is more than happy with that. He wants his fame to be his own, not built on the fame of his family and their legacy. And he knows that he’ll have his chance. He’ll go off and make a name for himself. Just… not today.

Because today, he’s being chased through the palace halls, his brothers hot on his heels.

He rounds a corner, almost running into two servants. “Sorry ladies!” He yells over his shoulder, picking up speed as his bare feet hit the carpet. They both sigh fondly at the young prince.

“Tommy!” Techno roars.

“Tomathy!” Wilbur yells.

Tommy ignores them and runs up to a door at the end of the hall, yanking it open and running into the king’s office. Phil’s sitting at the large desk facing the door but he stands up when Tommy shuts the door, pressing up against it to hold it closed. “Tommy?” He runs to Phil and tackles him in a hug. Phil hugs his back, wings wrapping around him out of habit. He starts running his hand through Tommy’s hair as Tommy buries his face into his chest. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. What’s wrong?”

The doors fly open and Techno and Wilbur stand there, both wearing comfortable clothes, both barefoot, and both covered in fluorescent orange slime. Wilbur bends over, putting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Techno, a literal general in the army, isn’t winded in the slightest.

Techno points the iron sword in his hand at Tommy. He’d probably nicked it from a suit of armor along the wall or taken it straight off of any one of the guards they passed. “Don’t pity him Dad. He’s a traitor. Hand him over, and it will all be resolved peacefully.”

Tommy looks up at Phil. “Don’t listen to them, Phil. I have never betrayed anyone in my entire life, ever.”

Poor Phil looks so confused. “W-what is happening?” He looks between his sons, brow furrowed.

Wilbur straightens up, having finally caught his breath. “He freaking poured this goop,” He gestures to the slime coating his hair and shoulders. “on us while we were walking down the hall.”

Tommy turns around to face Techno and Wilbur, Phil letting him go and lowering his wings. “You deserved it. This was brought on you completely by yourselves.”

Wilbur grabs some slime off his shoulder and flicks it at Tommy. It lands on his shirt. Tommy flips him off and Phil sighs. “You two go clean up. I’ll deal with this traitor.”

“So he’s not getting punished.” Wilbur pouts.

Phil holds his hand in his chin and nods. “Hour and a half sparring session with Tech.” Techno and Wilbur high five victoriously while Tommy groans. “Now go clean up.” Wilbur and Techno leave, shutting the door behind them. 

Tommy whirls around to face Phil. “Come on! You had to admit that was pretty funny.”

Phil chuckles and rifles through his pockets, handing Tommy a handkerchief. Tommy wipes the slime off his shirt. “Oh it was. You can stay here with me until they cool off for a bit.” He says, turning around and walking back to his desk.

Tommy follows him and looks over the papers scattered across the desk. “What’re you working on?”

Phil sits in the chair beside him with a sign. “Trade deals.”

Tommy looks over the papers for exactly two seconds before nodding his head. “We’re getting scammed.”

“What.”

He points at the documents and Phil sits up to look at them. “Wheat isn’t sold in bulk for _that_ much and they’re not giving you enough potions for you to be paying that much. Basically all of these prices are jacked up.”

Phil looks over the papers again, Tommy pointing out more flaws in the documents.

Phil sits back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. “You should make a business. You’d be good at it.”

Tommy stores that information away for later. “I’ll sell the best drugs on the server.”

Phil laughs so hard that he almost falls out of his chair.

*****

Tommy isn’t like his brothers. He’s not an elegant speaker and he’s not some genius tactician. He doesn’t go out into the world to do great things and then come home  
to his family to be known for who he is and not what he does.

And that’s fine. He has his own strengths. He’s great with business and Phil often runs future deals by him before they’re approved. He’s a good fighter, though it isn’t shown that much since he’s compared to the literal head of the army. He’s cunning and quick, and he has a burning passion for his home and his family.

He’s TommyInnit and he would do whatever he could for his family.

*****

Tommy smiles to himself as the crowd on the floor finishes the last lines of the second verse, imagining they’re signing the last lines of the verse he imagines.

He beams as it ends and the band strikes a few new notes. He lets the new chords ring out for a few seconds before doing a full spin on the bar and shouting as loud as he can, “There will come a ruler!”

A few people raise their glasses at the mention of a member of nobility, while the rest scream the new verse.

*****

**There will come a ruler  
Whose brow is laid in thorn  
Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord**

*****

Phil opens his eyes with a gasp. It takes his tired brain a minute to remember that he’s not on a battlefield, or in a burned down village holding the corpse of an old love. He’s in his palace (which is still weird for him to think about). He’s in his room, on his bed, laying on his stomach. His wings stretch out behind him, one on top of the blankets and the other partially covered by them.

He shifts so that he’s sitting up in bed. He puts his head in his hands and evens out his breathing as much as he can, trying to think about what he can do to calm down.

He doesn’t have his pond anymore. He misses it. He loves his palace, but he misses his pond. He knows that all he would have to do to get another one is ask, but he can’t bring himself to. It wouldn’t be the same. He’s had a few nightmares before while in the palace. Just enough for the servants to know not to disturb him when he wanders the cold halls of the building at night. 

He groans into his hands and gets out of bed. The stone is cold against his feet, but not unbearably so. Besides, the change in temperature helps ground him.

He opens his door and walks out of his room, into the halls. He closes the door behind him softly, looking at the doors to the three rooms also in the hall to make sure he wasn’t heard. When none of his kids are alerted by the noise, he begins his nightly pacing. He walks through the halls, with their high walls and colorful windows. He curls his wings around himself, both as a safety blanket and as a way to block out the slight chill in the air.

He keeps walking, turning down halls and looking out the windows every now and then. He only comes across one servant, who he gives a nod and a smile, which he receives back. He turns another corner and walks to the doors inlaid in the walls instead of continuing his walk along the red carpet stretching across the center of the hall.

He opens the doors and steps into the palace library, taking a deep breath in when he smells the old parchment and fresh ink that always permeated the room. The large fireplace on the right wall is unlit, and he walks over to it to fix that. He sidesteps the couch and the few armchairs to get there, almost stubbing his toe against one of the furniture legs. A small stack of wood sits by the fireplace and he takes a few logs, stacking them in the basket in the center of the bricks. He grabs a box of matches from the mantle and lights one, throwing it into the fire.

Once the fire gets going, he goes to the couch in front of the fireplace. He sits on the center cushion, letting his wings spread out beside him.

He sits there for a few minutes, letting the light and warmth from the fireplace wash over him, before he finally speaks. “You can come in.”

The door slowly squeaks open and his three kids enter the room, slowly closing the door behind them. Tommy’s in front and Wilbur’s in the back, Techo squeezed between them. They’re all wearing their night clothes, except for Techno, who’s also wearing his fluffy red cape.

Phil smiles. “Now what are you all doing up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Techno mumbles, once it’s clear that the other two aren’t going to respond. 

“All three of you couldn’t sleep?” He asks. They all shake their heads. “Ok. Come on.” He folds his wings back in and pats the couch beside him. They all come over to him and sit on the couch, Techno and Wilbur curled into his side, Tommy laying down with his head in Wilbur’s lap. Techno has his hand out, carding a hand through his blonde curls as a way of making up for the fact that he’s with Wilbur and not him. Whenever Tommy rests his head in Techno’s lap, Wilbur does the same thing.

Phil curls his wings back on the couch, but he positions them so that they’re covering his sons, like the way they used to back in their old server, when they were all smaller.

Phil knows why they’re here. Techno has always had a weird sense for whenever Phil had a nightmare, and he’d always be there to help Phil, claiming that he couldn’t sleep. It was a habit that had rapidly spread between Wilbur and Tommy as well, and now whenever he has a bad night, he doesn’t have to wait long before his children find him and comfort him.

He doesn’t speak, instead running his hands through Wilbur and Techno’s hair as they rest their heads on his shoulders. He pulls his wing on top of Tommy like a blanket. He feels their breathing even out and he feels them relax against him, though they’re not quite asleep. Techno’s hand slowly slows in Tommy’s hair until it stops moving, instead just laying gently on top of his head.

None of them talk.

None of them have to.

*****

Phil is more than a ruler. He’s an emperor. 

He sits through meetings, he makes laws, he handles all the strings tied to the most minor things. Everything comes to him and he divides it up among himself and others, and everything goes through him before being sent back out. Trade deals get passed to Tommy, diplomatic documents go to Wilbur, and anything with an army insignia goes to Techno. When they're done with their work, he gets it all back and gives it a once over before sending it back out.

Once, he thought it unfair that his sons were doing work that was supposed to be his, so he insisted on taking back the work he was allowing them to do. He lasted a week before his boys convinced him to let them help again. _‘You’re trying to carry an entire empire on your shoulders.’_ Techno had told him. _‘No one can handle that kind of stress. Why do you think kings hire advisors and equerries? And they’re running a kingdom a quarter of the size of the Empire.’_ He relented after that and his sons started helping him again.

He’s Philza, emperor of the Antarctic Empire.

But when the day ends, he goes back to his family, where he isn’t the man with the regal black crown. He’s the father of three rowdy boys, and he’s the man who has to stop his kids from killing each other when they get into an argument about who should get cereal first in the morning, even though they all get served according to who wakes up first (Techno). He’s the one who stands there with raised eyebrows and concerns when Wilbur tries to convince him to eat sand. He’s the one who has to try to not give into Techno’s pleas when he presents plans on how to conquer the entire SMP (He’ll give in eventually and he has to watch Wilbur try not to smile at the trial).

He’s Philza and he would burn the world down for his family, although they probably would have destroyed everything worth burning beforehand for him.

*****

**Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord  
Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord**

**Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord  
He will tear your city down, oh lei-oh lai... oh**

**Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh**

**Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh**

*****

Tommy listens as the crowd sings, smiling.

The beat picks up immensely and everyone starts spinning around the room, yelling the lyrics as loud as they can. Tommy joins from his place on the bar, spinning and dancing in tune with the guitar and the drums.

A minute in, he feels a tug on his pants. He looks down and sees Wilbur standing there, smiling up at him. He tilts his head over to the door and Tommy looks that way. Two hooded figures stand in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame.

“It’s time to go.” Wilbur says. Tommy can barely hear him over the music and revelry. He sighs and sits on the bar, setting his glass to the side and sliding off the wood. Wilbur leads him to the door, where Techno and Phil wait. Once they see that he’s coming, they open the door and step outside. Wilbur steps outside and looks back at Tommy, who’s looking back at the crowd. “Come on, Toms.” Tommy huffs and pulls his hood over his head, lightly tapping his chest as he leaves the building.

The air is cold but after so long of living there, Tommy’s used to it. “I could have stayed for another two songs.” He pouts.

Phil smiles and shakes his wings out from behind his coat, stretching them out. “Yeah, you could have. But you’ve been here for two hours already.”

Tommy rolls his eyes and starts walking down the town’s streets. “Ok, yeah, but I could have stayed for another two songs.”

Phil comes up on his right and Techno and Wilbur walk up and take their place on his left, with Wilbur right next to him. “How many sodas have you had?” Techno asks.

He shrugs. “Oh we’re never getting you to go to sleep.” Wilbur groans, running a hand down his face. Phil chuckles. “What song were they playing?”

He loses pace slightly with his family, watching their backs as they walk forward.

_Soldier, Poet, King._

_He doesn’t exactly fit into the narrative._

Wilbur turns to look at him. “You coming?”

*****

**Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh**

*****

He smiles and runs back up to his family. “Yeah.”

“What song were they playing?” Phil repeats.

He smiles and shakes his head, a warm feeling spreading through his chest, fighting off the cold. “A familiar one.”

_He may not fit into the narrative._

_But what’s the point of having a story if there's no one to tell it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support! I'm not the best with words (a bit of an oxymoron since I'm a writer) so I don't really know how to express my gratitude to all of you. Thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos, and thank you to everyone who's made it this far! 
> 
> If you want to read more of my things, I have a few one shots on my page, and I'm coming out with a new series based on Minecraft manhunt very soon, so you can look forward to that if you're interested.

**Author's Note:**

> *clutches heart* The Support... I can’t 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos. They really brighten my day


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